


Fallen Empires

by alecjbi (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Dragons, Drinking, Emotional Baggage, Emotions, Eventual Romance, Human Experimentation, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Gore, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Canon Compliant, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overwatch Ensemble - Freeform, Overwatch Recall, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Shimada Clan, Slow Burn, Swearing, Torture, Very Very Slow Burn, pretty much the whole overwatch gang, some canon stuff but still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11681928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/alecjbi
Summary: "Have you ever even had the chance to look upon a whole city, a country- the world, perhaps- and know you could control it all? At a snap of a finger, a wave of a hand, it could all come crashing down, taking all of us with it."





	1. Prologue: Confession of a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"How do you know that you're right, if you're not nervous anymore? It's not so bad, it's not so bad..." ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i've decided to try my hand at writing again, so i'm here! i've entered mchazo hell once again.
> 
> keep in mind that this doesn't follow the canon storyline, but there are some canon elements in here (places, names, times, certain events, etc.)
> 
> i love getting feedback, so comment if you'd like! if i mess up with grammar or anything, feel free to correct me. (notes excluded)
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoy!

The sun rose over the city of Hanamura like any other day. Once again, the sky was illuminated with pinks and reds and oranges, complimenting the cherry blossoms that would soon be in full bloom. Dew sprinkled over the small patches of grass outside the castle of the dragons, sparkling as the sun greeted the town to a new day. It was simply another day, another rival, another sip of sake, another business deal.

A man sat in the courtyard, polishing a sword taken from its sheath some feet away. No one in the castle had seen it been used in years, not since a young man had disappeared from within its walls, but no one dared ask why the man held in his worn hands. The metal gleamed in the light of the rising sun as the man polished it meticulously. Not one inch of the sword was left unpolished. Once he seemed satisfied with his work, the man stood up and made his way into the castle with a sort of elegance and importance that only the rich and powerful seemed to possess. The short, sharp clink of metal on concrete was all that could be heard throughout the courtyard and open entry of the castle. The man sheathed the sword, placed a yellow ribbon in front of it, and was on his way, walking into the quiet castle.

The man walked by people throughout the castle who bowed in his presence, presumably maids or lower down members of the Shimada clan, but the man paid no attention to them. They were nothing but pawns in a larger-than-life game of chess. Disposable, nearly useless. He was Hanzo Shimada, he had an empire to run. He had the world to control.

The man reached the end of a long hallway that no one beside him dared to enter. There was nothing special about it, really, it was merely Hanzo's room. It was once filled with chefs and maids and businessmen. Hanzo could remember his brother's laugh when they raced each other through the halls of this kingdom, when life was only the streets of Hanamura, when the hardest thing he'd have to do is choose what to order at the ramen shop on the corner. Oh, how he wished he had heeded his brother's advice and escaped while he could. He wouldn't have to worry about illegal businesses or inheriting a clan, no. He could leave his life behind. He could rid of the evil that this clan had imprinted upon him. He could let the Shimada Clan burn, his father, his life, his guilt along with it.

Hanzo pushed the notion of escaping away. It was foolish. He was a leader, a king of all things. He inherited a throne meant for him and would do anything to keep this kingdom in power. After all, kings did not constantly think foolish thoughts, wishing to run away with someone who was now dead. Kings did not think about destroying their kingdom. They sat on their throne until they died, the next in line taking their place. It had happened with Hanzo's father, his father, and all the way down the line. He was a dragon, for God's sake. He wouldn't stop to be weak, to mourn a life he could've had. He was powerful, and that was final.

The metal feet clicked their way to the door as Hanzo-

"Shimada-san?"

Hanzo spun around, almost startled, reaching for a bow that was no longer there. The (former) archer was met with a girl that cowered underneath Hanzo's glare. She stared at him, almost as if waiting to be given permission to speak, otherwise she would be hurt. Hanzo softened his expression, the image of Sojiro Shimada flashing behind his eyes. While he didn't care much about the girl, he knew the feeling all too well. The girl began to speak, quickly and quietly, the Japanese sounding foreign on her tongue.

" _Shimada-san, I was told to, uh.._ " the girl stuttered, trying to find the words in a language that was not her own.

"You can speak English," Hanzo said. He had things to do. This would be faster.

"Oh, thank you, Shimada-san," the girl said as she bowed awkwardly. "Uh, Daishi-san needs to talk to you in between meetings. He's the lawyer for the latest clan negotiation."

Hanzo tilted his head to the side, racking his mind for this "Daishi" character. There were plenty of lawyers on the latest case of trying to get peace between the Shimada's rival clan, but Hanzo had never really paid attention to their names.

"Why are you telling me this, instead of Daishi-san?"

"Uh, well," the girl shifted between her two feet. She looked quite uncomfortable. "Well, he married my mom and moved us here, and he said he was busy, I guess." She noticeably flinched as she spoke. Hanzo felt a wave of anger. These were odd circumstances, but he'd have a chance to deal with a man that he assumed was beating his wife and kid. He was the king of an organized crime ring, but he had some morals.

"Well, I don't know how you got here, but tell him that I'll fit him into my schedule. I don't normally do this, so you tell him he's lucky. Meet me back here in-" Hanzo glanced at his watch, mentally rearranging his schedule to deal with this scumbag, "-three hours. I should be done by then."

The girl sprouted thanks and disappeared around the corner, out of sight and out of Hanzo's mind.

Hanzo had finally opened his door when his watch started beeping, signaling that he was late for a meeting. "Shit," he muttered and rushed into his room to look presentable.

The king rushed out of his castle and into the city. Hanamura was starting to wake up. Shops were opening, the arcade from the elder Shimada's childhood opened its doors and turned on its machines, and the Rikimaru on the corner greeted its first customers. No one seemed to notice a girl in the alleyway sneaking into a dingy hotel room greeted by a diverse group of people. No one seemed to notice the omic in a business suit walking among them. No one seemed to notice the name "Hanzo" whispered into phones throughout the city. And if anyone saw a holovid of a monkey outside of a large building overlooking a cliff, they didn't say anything, because that would just be too absurd for somewhere such as Hanamura. The residents of the sleepy city had learned not to question much. They were at peace, and they would stay that way.

* * *

 

True to her word, the girl was waiting near Hanzo's room as he walked back from his meeting. Without saying a word, they walked out of the castle and into town. The residents moved out of Hanzo's way as he passed, knowing not to interfere with him. They knew not to question why he was following a little girl. If someone disappeared from the town, no one asked why, because many of them knew they would be next. Hanamura was quiet for a reason.

Hanzo was led into a dingy hotel room. It had one bed, the sheets torn off of it and discarded onto the floor. A table had a set of playing cards, a holovid, and bottles of wine, whiskey, and other alcohol. Most of it was American- disgusting, cheap. Packs of cigarettes littered the floor. Hanzo thought he could see a blood stain near the window, and glanced over to the girl, scanning her for injuries. The more he saw, the more he hated the lawyer he was about to meet.

"So, where is he?" Hanzo asked, but the girl was gone. _Damn_ , Hanzo thought, quickly realizing that he was foolish- this all could have been a trap, and he'd be dead before he knew it. Why didn't he think to bring a wea-

A metallic voice spoke from behind him, almost the distinct sound of an omnic Hanzo knew all too well. But this one was different, almost human. It took the almost always composed man to realize what the voice had said, the words piercing into his skin and a place in his mind that had been locked away for ages.

"Hello, brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao so when i was writing this i accidentally closed out of my tab and deleted all my work! sorry if it's not that good, I was trying to remember what i wrote. i promise other chapters will be better
> 
> i have a tumblr if you'd like to say hi <3
> 
> alecjb.tumblr.com


	2. Fancy Meeting You Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Hi. Fancy meeting you here. Hello. Long time no see. Is it really you? Yes it's really me." ___

The watchpoint was exactly how Jesse remembered it. The gigantic compound sat nestled into a crook of the rocky island, burrowing its way into the center. You could see nothing but ocean for miles. Only when you stood atop the island was when you could see the land that Overwatch once operated on. Not anymore. Overwatch- his former home- had been disbanded years before, and Watchpoint: Gibraltar no longer held the family that the cowboy had chosen for himself. Jesse stepped out of the aircraft and into a hangar all too familiar to him. This wasn't the same place that McCree was taken into at the tender age of seventeen, where an angel in a white lab coat tended to his wounds time and time again, where his best friend was wheeled in while falling apart at the seams, where a grumpy old man taught him all that he knew today. Now it was only an abandoned watchpoint that was rotting away like the rest of Overwatch.

"What on God's green earth are we doing here, anyways?" the cowboy questioned, searching for the girl emerging from the aircraft behind him. Tracer- no, Lena, the cowboy corrected himself- had insisted that he come back to this dump. Well, not insisted, really. Lena had raced behind Jesse, put a hand over his mouth, and forced him into the aircraft. No hello's, no greetings, no I-haven't-seen-you-since-Overwatch-and-missed-you's. It took everything for the former Blackwatch agent not to heed the voice of Gabe in his head and kill her on the spot. Lena had the reputation to be the over-dramatic one of the group, so Jesse reluctantly let the Brit drag him into the aircraft, a twitchy hand resting on the holster of Peacekeeper.

Only when Jesse was safely inside the craft did Lena blink in front of the confused man and gather him in a rib-crushing hug, spouting strings of words along the lines of "I missed you". Her chronal accelerator dug into the cowboy's stomach, a sensation that Jesse had grown accustomed to over the years. Lena smelled of smoke and gasoline, of the city- presumably London. Her voice had returned to the thick, smooth accent that she had owned when Jesse first met her. Lena was a carbon copy of the girl who had joined Overwatch years ago: older, wiser, but unchanged. Despite himself, Jesse smiled and hugged her back. The messy hair and bright orange goggles were a sight for sore eyes. But that didn't stop the cowboy from being pissed off when Lena explained that they were going back to the watchpoint- an activity that was not only illegal but caused Jesse's heart to ache. It wasn't home anymore, and Lena knew it. 

"You'll see." Lena smiled, taking McCree by the hand and leading him across the courtyard and into a room that he recognized as the meeting room. To his surprise, it wasn't abandoned and left to die like the rest of the watchpoint. It looked as if someone was working on his old home, trying to return the base hidden within the rocks to its former glory. The lights were turned on, outdated machines sputtering to activate after years of inactivity. A bright orange globe spun slowly above the table, papers were scattered among the coffee cups and playing cards, blankets were thrown carelessly on a couch against the wall, jars of peanut butter lay abandoned near a chalkboard. The room looked loved, as if the agents of Overwatch still inhabited its halls, still laughed and joked and saved the world. Old photos of the agents were pasted to the wall with Blu-Tack. Jesse walked closer to them, the old, fading photos bringing back bittersweet memories. The cowboy noticed one from his days in Blackwatch, standing next to a familiar face. They two of them looked young, maybe in their twenties, when Genji had finally been fit for all of his prosthetics and metal enhancements. It was one of the few times the man had taken his mask off, his eyes crinkled underneath his scars as he smiled. 

Jesse's heart ached at the memory of the day his friend had arrived at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. 

_It was an emergency, Angela had said over the comm as Lena flew her back to Gibraltar. It was a kid, a little younger than Jesse, who had been left to die. Based on Angela's descriptions, her instructions given to Jesse and some of the Overwatch agents to prepare the med bay, there was no way that this kid was alive. By all scientific, hell, even spiritual explanations, this boy was dead. He wasn't breathing, wasn't responding to medication, his heart was barely beating. But Angela, the crazy, genius doctor that she was insisted that they could save him._

_"I've seen too many of you die," she had said, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm not letting some kid die while I can still help him."_

_"Angela," McCree had said gently, "he's basically dead! You said it yourself, there's next to no chance that he'll even live another hour. This is a waste of time and resources."_

_Gabe agreed. "Are you sure you're not emotionally involved?" McCree could tell he was trying to sound gentle- as gentle as the commander of Blackwatch could be- but it only seemed to egg Angela on._

_"Stop!" Angela had nearly screamed. Jesse practically fell out of his seat. "He's just a_ kid _, he's near Jesse's age, you'd care too. I know there's still a chance. I had to amputate both of his legs on the plane, one above the knee and one below. He was losing too much blood, and there was no saving them. It looks like he has pretty major organ damage, the medic that I met on the scene is basically holding his intestines in. His arms, his face, god, whoever did this really wanted to make him suffer. But there's still a chance, I can feel it. Just, please, trust me on this one."  
_

_Grudgingly_ _, Gabe nodded. He had been known to take in the misfits, the broken. Beneath that hard expression and cold eyes was someone who cared about them. Someone who had taken Jesse out from a life of crime and put him under his wing, and would do his best to save a boy that was already dead. He had known him long enough to see the man behind the hard exterior._

_As soon as the plane touched down, they were running. Angela had commanded every free agent with any knowledge of first aid or medical training to help her. A group of about twenty agents, both Overwatch and Blackwatch had gathered a the hangar to save one kid. From what McCree could gather, they would need about fifty people to keep this kid kicking._

_It took all of his might not to throw up as Angela emerged from the plane with the kid. McCree had seen injuries in his day, even got a few that the kind doctor had fixed in an instant. Nothing as bad as this. Blood soaked through whatever bandages they could get on him, the kid's intestines peeking out behind a medic's hands. Both of his legs were gone. Slashes covered his chest and abdomen and arms, cuts that reached to the bone. Angela had been known to be able to fix injuries in minutes, but this... this was just too much._

_"Who would do something like this to a_ kid _?" Jesse whispered. "How could anyone force another human to suffer this much?"_

_Angela ignored him, rushing into the med-bay. The way she knit her eyebrows and clenched her teeth, the way she yelled at people to get her supplies or to hold pressure on the kid's cuts was a telltale sign that she was scared. Scared, but determined. Angela would not let this kid die, even if it killed her._

"What'cha thinking about?" Lena's voice trailed from behind Jesse, her rich accent jolting the cowboy from his reverie. 

"Oh, sorry," McCree muttered, taking the picture of him and Genji from the wall. He gently stuffed it into his shirt pocket. It was something to hold onto, knowing that he'd never hear the click of metal feet down the hall or the faint mechanical sound in Genji's voice. "Just thinkin' 'bout when Genji arrived here for the first time."

Lena's smile faltered but quickly snapped back into place. "Yeah... well, at least he's okay now, right?"

McCree nodded slowly. He nor Lena had no way of knowing how Genji was doing, none of the Overwatch agents were allowed to contact each other after the organization had been torn to the ground. But yet, they were here, in Jesse's old home, where his life was torn away from him. It was too much, the cowboy thought. This is illegal, there's no guarantee anyone's even going to be alive...

"Take me home," McCree snapped, and Lena's eyes widened. "We're not supposed to be here, I bet no one's even alive anymore. I don't know why you brung me here, but take me home.  _Now._ "

Lena raised her hands in an act of mock surrender. "I knew you'd say that," she giggled, blinking behind Jesse to give him a pat on the back. Jesse spun around, nearly hitting her in the process. 

"I mean it, Lena! This is illegal!" 

"Since when do you care about adhering to the law? Remind me, how big is that bounty on your head?" Lena said, tilting her head to one side and grinning. The unmistakable pair of brown eyes scanned Jesse's face for any sign of emotion, something to take to her advantage. McCree had danced this dance time and time again, he would not play this game and let Lena receive the enjoyment that she so wanted out of it. 

The girl straightened her head and frowned. "Oh, come on love, lighten up! You've gotten old over the years, you're no fun anymore." She smirked as she saw McCree's face twitch in annoyance. He was still fun! Lena blinked behind him and sauntered off into the doorway. "Well, if you're going to be like that, I won't let you see everybody."

That piqued his interest. "What do you mean?"

Lena smiled- a full smile, teeth and all. Not the cheeky smirks that often laid upon her face. "I knew that would get you. Let's go, love, we're late to a reunion!"

McCree followed Lena into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks in the door frame, staring into the eyes of people he convinced himself were dead. From the Swedish engineer sitting on the counter tinkering with a remote to the German warrior skimming through a comic book on the floor, McCree saw everyone from his former life. He reached out an arm to grasp the frame, his voice refusing to come out and greet his family. 

There was no way in hell that this was real. 

"Uh, McCree," Lena said, shifting awkwardly between her two feet, "you gonna say something, love?"

Jesse simply stood there, slack-jawed in awe. 

"Ooooookay," Lena said, stringing out her words to fill the awkward silence. "Uh, I dunno if you can even hear me, but Winston recalled Overwatch. Everyone's back, and they'd, uh, love to catch up with you once you snap back into reality."

Jesse didn't move. 

"Don't worry, Lena, I've got this," a metallic voice spoke from the corner of the room. Genji emerged from his perch, smiling as he saw the astounded face of his friend. He reached where McCree stood, tilting his head curiously to examine the man he hadn't seen in years. With one swift, fluid motion, a hand was smacked across McCree's face. The cowboy blinked, slowly registering the person that stood in front of him. 

"Genj, what the  _fuck_ was that for?"  
  
Cheers erupted throughout the room as Genji embraced his old friend. McCree grinned into the cyborg's shoulder, silently begging himself not to cry. This place would never be home to him again, but the smiles from his former teammates and the absence of the constant ache in his heart told Jesse that it would come close. 

* * *

 

As much as he hated to admit it, Jesse was quite fond of his new "home". 

It wasn't much like his days in Blackwatch. The absence of Gabe pounding on his door at 5 AM to "wake the fuck up" was a relief. It almost didn't seem right to not see the angry eyes of Gabriel Reyes standing above Jesse's bed when he awoke in his old room. The base was quiet, even with the eight people living in it at the moment. He still heard the same footsteps going down the halls, the same laughs in the kitchen, the same growls from Winston as he worked on a new project, but it was much quieter. The quiet was unnatural, almost disturbing, but McCree decided he could deal with it. After all, he had his best friend back and a small part of the family he had found here. It would make do. 

Even if Overwatch was illegal and under the radar, Winston still put them to work. Each agent was assigned a room, given a badge and key cards, spare communicators and burner phones that they dug up from the dusty boxes in the basement. The technology was severely outdated but nearly untraceable, Winston had explained. Each agent was in charge of cleaning some part of the base each day, making sure machines were up and running, doing system updates and maintenance.

It was miserable.

"This is damn boring!" McCree had complained one day while going through and cataloging the items in storage with Angela. "We're _Overwatch_ , for chrissakes, and I'm down in the basement of a rotting base cataloging Jack Morrison's socks!" He held up a pair of old socks, coaxing a small laugh out of the doctor.   

"Don't say that too loudly or Winston will make you clean the floors with a toothbrush," Angela replied. She dug through another box and pulled out a set of shurikens. Even after years of sitting in the damp basement, the still shone in the fluorescent lighting. The doctor smiled. "Hey, I think these are the first shurikens Torbjörn made for Genj," she said, twisting the metal star to examine it from all angles. "It was a pain in the ass to figure out how to fit it into his prosthetic." 

"D'ya remember when he slashed his hand so bad with 'em you could see right down to the bone?"

"God, Jesse, don't remind me," she said, wrapping the shurikens in a cloth. "The last thing he needed was another injury for me to fix."

They uncovered many more treasures in the boxes, some that they cataloged, some that McCree pocketed and placed on his dresser to liven up his room. Fareeha had been pushing him to make this place feel like more like home, since "now that you're associated with Overwatch again, there's no going back". McCree took it as a joke, ignoring the problematic implications that the statement entailed and patted Fareeha on the shoulder, a habit he had picked up from when the young girl explored the halls of this place with her mother.

A dinner schedule had been established a week after McCree had moved in, a tradition from the original days of Overwatch. Although, in the kind doctor's words, it was "a chance for Reinhardt to force German food down our throats and for Torbjörn to cut off whatever existing flesh he has left". McCree agreed but still ate the pork schnitzel to hear the booming laugh of the old German soldier. His willingness to eat all of Reinhardt's food earned him the largest slice of the Black Forest cake Reinhardt served one night, a fact that he would never let Genji forget. 

Lena insisted time and time again that the old base was "downright depressing", so it came as no surprise to McCree when a lively looking Tracer appeared above his bed, handing him a paint roller and instructed him to "get up, love! We're painting this base a happier color". By the end of the week, nearly every inch of the interior walls were painted a "cheery" blue. Torbjörn had pitched in and painted his turrets on the perimeter of the base the same color, while Angela and Fareeha painted Overwatch insignias and red crosses on the shockingly white walls of the med bay. Winston had even reinvented Athena's logo to fit the theme of their new Overwatch. Everyone had made this old base home again, but McCree still couldn't go to sleep without hearing the arguments of the late Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes down the hall. Everyone had remade this base, recreating it to be their own, but to Jesse, it would never be the same. He wouldn't let himself forget that this would never be home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to connect this chapter to the beginning to where it left off in hanzo's pov but i just didn't feel like it would fit?? but i promise that the story will pick up next chapter. but in the mean time there's everyone being cute :)
> 
> and some other notes: 1.) i took the liberty of kinda explaining some of the extent of genji's injuries because it bothers me that there's not a canon explination, and 2.) there's one sentence in here where it puts a space before a comma and i can't fix it, which is really annoying. so if you see it, just ignore it
> 
> tell me what you think about this!! i'd love to get some feedback.
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoyed! i have a tumblr if you'd like to say hi <3
> 
> alecjb.tumblr.com


	3. First Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I don't know if you ever remember our first encounter, that one November. When you said to me, 'we were meant to be'" ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this fic isn't popular by any means but even getting a few hits make me so excited. it amazes me that people even take time to even glance at my work, much less read it or leave a kudos. it's insane to me. so leave a kudos and tell me what you think, if you'd like! i thrive off of this stuff <3

"Agent McCree?"

A smooth voice drifted through Jesse's mind. It was calling for him, but Jesse didn't care. The voice spoke again- louder this time- yanking Jesse out of his slumber. The room wasn't light, so he rolled over once more, burying his head under his pillow. He had probably just dreamt it.

"Agent McCree," the voice said again. McCree groaned and threw the pillow off of him.  

"Yeah?" the cowboy said between yawns. He searched for the source of the voice, soon placing it to a spot above his head.  _Athena._

"Agent Winston has requested that you meet in the conference room in twenty minutes." 

"Twenty minutes? How does 'e expect me to get up so damn fast?"

"Agent Winston specified that it would be plenty of time. He scheduled to wake every agent up at this time."

Jesse groaned again. "Well, thanks for wakin' me up, Athena. Don't do it again."

"I can make no such promises." McCree chuckled softly, throwing his feet over the bed. His floor awfully cold, and the grown man retracted his feet and curled into a ball when they hit the floor. 

"How important did Winston say this meeting would be, darlin'?" 

"Agent Winston said you must attend. He commanded me to tell you to get up when you refused."

Damn, the monkey knew him too well. "Thanks," Jesse muttered, and (grudgingly) lumbered out of his room. Winston had a habit of picking the most inconvenient times to schedule meetings with any of the agents. The habit stretched all the way back to his days in Blackwatch, the cowboy mused. More than once had the calm voice of Athena interrupted two people being  _alone together_ , or waking the agents of the base up at an ungodly hour. Jesse loved the monkey, but it was too damn early to have an intelligent conversation.  

"Jesus Christ McCree, at least put some pants on," Fareeha groaned as Jesse entered the kitchen. Her usual well-kept hair flared up in the back and around the sides in an unmistakable case of bedhead. Angela stood next to her, rubbing her eyes and nursing a steaming cup of coffee. She looked about ready to doze off into the table. Genji seemed to be doing just that, his head rested on the table, looking as disheveled as a cyborg could. 

"Well, he made sure to put on the hat. That's a start," a grumpy looking Lena said from the table. The normally perky Tracer sat with her head slouched in one hand, staring at a point in the wall. 

"Why did Winston even schedule a meeting at five AM?" the kind doctor groaned, staring at the ground as if considering sleeping on it right then and there. "He knows no one in this entire base gets up before ten."

"I'm missing five hours of sleep?" another voice exclaimed. The entire room jumped as Genji sprung up and threw his hands up in disbelief. 

"Whoa there, Genj, we didn't know you were awake," Jesse said, (literally) pushing Fareeha out of the way to pour a cup of coffee. 

"I wish I wasn't. I could be laying in bed right now. Sleeping. Like every fucking person in the world does at 5 AM. This is abuse."

He groaned and slammed his head back down into the table, _hard_. A loud crack rang throughout the room. 

"I think I broke my faceplate."

Angela sighed and rested a heavy head in her hands. "It's too damn early."

* * *

Eventually, the team in the kitchen made their way to the conference room, each with a cup of coffee in hand. Even Genji, who was not sporting his trademark faceplate due to cracking it right down the middle. ("How hard did you smack your head? It's supposed to withstand bullets!" Angela had said as she examined the broken armor with a sense of defeat. "That's the third one!") Lena didn't blink in and out of sight down the halls, instead trudging along behind McCree. Fareeha and Genji chatted in a desperate attempt to stay awake.

The remaining members of Overwatch had joined the group- minus Winston. Each agent was just as tired and disheveled as all the rest. Only Reinhardt seemed to be awake, lively and loud as ever, greeting the agents with hard pats on the back every time it looked like they were about to doze off. They meandered down the halls waiting for the mystery meeting to start, slowly waking up and debating what the meeting would be about. ("I bet'cha Winston just forgot t'go over some housekeeping rules," McCree had argued. "Or maybe it's something important," Genji added halfheartedly.)

They grumpily filed into the conference room, taking a seat around the futuristic table. It hadn't changed much since McCree had arrived, spare for less dust bunnies and more pen caps, coffee rings, and papers strewn about. Winston entered the room a few moments later, adjusting his glasses and holding a fat stack of paper. A collective sigh rolled around the room. Winston seemed to take no notice to it, greeting the members of the team with a warm smile. 

"Sorry to wake all of you up this early, but there is a lot that we need to go over today," the scientist said as he sat down at the head of the table.

"No kiddin'," Jesse muttered, propping his head up with his hand. He glanced around the table. No one seemed to be paying attention to what Winston had to say. McCree couldn't blame them. 

"First matter of business is some extra housekeeping rules and work that we haven't finished," Jesse groaned inwardly and closed his eyes as Winston spoke. Just as he had predicted, the meeting wasn't important. With luck, he could get an extra ten minutes of sleep-

"We're getting new agents and you didn't tell us until today?" the voice of Angela rang throughout the room, jolting McCree out of his catnap. He turned his head to Angela, who had sprung up, hands on her heads in disbelief. "Do you know how much work that'll make for us? Training, putting together their rooms, moving equipment- not to mention all the work I'm going to have now! They need immunizations and updates on their prosthetics and-"

Fareeha yanked on Angela's arm. "Relax," she muttered as Angela sat down, arms crossed, glaring at the monkey across the table. He shrugged. "To be honest, I didn't even know until today. Athena and I have been corresponding with them for weeks, and it just so worked out that both of them could come today. I just got the confirmation last night. I figured that the sooner they get here, the better."

"Still, Winston, you could've told us that we're getting two new agents ahead of time," Genji said, leaning towards Winston. "It would've caused  _someone_ from having a mental breakdown," he said under his breath to Winston. Angela glared at the two of them across the table. She attempted to drag her thumb across her throat as Fareeha pulled her arm down, sighing. 

"Anyways," Winston said, adjusting his glasses and moving  _just_ the slightest away from Angela. "McCree, Angela, and Tracer will be flying to King's Row to pick them up at the safehouse." 

Lena lifted her head from her hands, an expectant look and a slight grin on her face. "Can I-"

"No, you cannot go off to see Emily," Winston said offhandedly. Lena's smile dropped as she slouched back down and added to the list of people glaring at Winston. "You three will leave at 7 AM. Athena has calculated the trip will take in total about 4 hours, so this will give us plenty of time to start planning for the mission planned tomorrow."

The whole room turned to stare at Winston, mouths agape. McCree was the first to speak. "So, you're tellin' me that we're goin' on a mission tomorrow. No planning, just hoppin' on a plane and busting our asses across the world."

"Yes, I admit that it was not the best timing-"

"Not the best timing?" Torbjörn chimed in. "I've got to install new turrets along the perimeter of this damn thing by Monday! You're just tellin' us now?"

"Yes, but-"

"This is ridiculous!" Fareeha said, seemingly giving up on keeping her cool. "When I joined Overwatch I expected it to be organized, not this shit. Helix was better organized-"

"Enough!" Winston exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table. Fareeha quickly closed her mouth, returning to the slouched position she was in a moment ago. "Yes, this was not the best timing, but it is simply a recon mission to adjust our new members to Overwatch and try to recruit more people under the radar. I didn't think we would be doing this for months, but I found out last night that it would work out perfectly. Just relax." Winston sighed and leaned back in his chair. McCree stared at the floor. This was about as well as the Blackwatch meetings had went. He could remember threatening to shoot Reyes between his eyes during a debriefing. 

"Are you going to tell us about the agents or not?" Reinhardt questioned, tapping his hands on the table while trying to diffuse the tension. 

"Good idea," McCree muttered. Winston took a deep breath and began to talk.

"Hana Song and Lúcio Correia dos Santos." With a flick of the wrist, a holograph of both of the new agents appeared above the table. McCree heard a slight intake of breath to his right, and found Lena staring at the two with her eyes wide. In fact everyone seemed to be starstruck, barring the cowboy. "Ages nineteen and twenty-six. Call signs 'D.Va' and 'Lúcio', respectively. Both celebrities, but I'm sure you already knew that."

 _Oh_ , McCree thought.  _That's why._  

"Now, the fact that they are well known does bring up a few complications, but their skills they will bring to our team greatly outweigh the cons. There's much more information about their backgrounds and skills in your folders, so I'll skip going over that. Long story short, they were willing to join, and we need them if we want Overwatch to stand a chance. Their popularity will help bring support to Overwatch, but will put you all in much more danger. Hence, the mission tomorrow."

The entire table looked expectantly at Winston. He smirked, obviously trying to hide the fact that he was gloating. McCree chuckled, as well as Lena, who had spent enough time with the scientist to know his mannerisms. Winston looked down at his notes, his smile quickly fading. "Uh, now, about the mission. To put it bluntly, we'll be trying to recruit..." He paused, clearing his throat in an attempt to stall.

The entire table leaned in once more. "Well?" Torbjörn groaned.

Winston sighed, looking down at the table and refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "Hanzo Shimada."

All eyes locked on Genji as soon as Winston had spoken the first word. He sat there, arms crossed, staring back at everyone. "What? I asked him to."

McCree, who was taking a long swig of coffee, took a sharp intake of breath and nearly choked, coffee splattering all over the table and the people surrounding him. Torbjörn glared at him with a look of utter disgust as he wiped down his face. "What the hell?" McCree spat between coughs. "You wanna work with the person who damn near killed ya?"

Genji merely shrugged, which made McCree choke even more. "I've made peace with him. I know my brother well enough to see that he needs to join us. Hanzo has spent too much time in the Shimada clan, and sooner or later he'll go mad."

"Plus," Winston chimed in, releasing his gaze from the ground, "he has many valuable assets and intel that could help us. If we want to get him on this team, we need to do it quickly."

"Oh, so there's a time frame now, huh?" McCree said, glaring at Genji. "We need t'go 'n get your precious big brother before he up and kills himself. In my opinion, we should just let the fucker die."

Genji sighed. "I know you're not happy about this-"

"Ya think?" That earned McCree a glare from the cyborg, his eyes digging into him in a way that he never could when hiding behind a mask. 

"But it's not the only reason we want to recruit him. Talon gave him an offer to join their ranks." 

The room went silent. Lena recoiled slightly at the name of the group. Every agent of Overwatch had heard of Talon, nearly every person in the world had. The terrorist organization was infamous for their ways of torture and mind control, most notably with Amélie Lacroix. It was rumored that they were led by a man made of smoke. No matter how absurd it sounded, it sent a shiver down McCree's spine. 

"It's true," Winston said solemnly. "Athena has been keeping monitoring all email, webcam, and security footage- among other things- of major threats to Overwatch. We've even broken through the very, very low levels of Talon databases. On a list was the names of the CEOs and leaders of all major clans, businesses, and corporations around the world. This included the Shimada Clan and Hanzo's name. This based with security footage in Hanamura of Hanzo and this man-" an image of the alleged "man made of smoke" flashed above the table- "confirmed our suspicions. Normally we would attempt to sabotage the deal and not recruit them, but-"

"Hanzo has too much information about me," Genji finished. His expression was dark- sad, almost. "There's no doubt Talon knows that I'm alive, and there's no knowing how Hanzo would act if he discovered that I was. Hanzo has never been very good under pressure, so enough persuading could get him to join Talon. To make it worse, Hanzo is a soldier. Our father taught us how to fight from the moment we could walk. With some conditioning, or the mind control that Talon has rumored to possess, he could become the most deadly soldier we've come to face. He's dangerous. The best chance we have is trying to recruit him. And... I have faith that he'll be okay. He's a good person, underneath all of that... Hanzo."

McCree stared at Genji, eyeing the scars that littered his face. The image of the open wounds that Genji was sporting the day he arrived still popped into McCree's mind as he tried to sleep. The man that they wanted to bring into Overwatch was the same man who had done this to Genji. He was the man who had nearly killed an innocent kid, who had nearly killed his brother. Given the oppurtunity, McCree would have marched to Hanamura and kill Hanzo on sight. But Genji believed that Hanzo was a good person, and it would do more harm than good to kill him or let him join Talon. McCree leaned back in his chair, a frown covering his face. 

"Fine," he said, smiling slightly to himself as the cyborg's expression brightened. "But I sure as hell ain't gonna like it." McCree looked around the table to see everyone nodding with varying degrees of enthusiasm. 

"Well then," Winston said. "Let's get moving."

* * *

McCree stared at the ceiling, drawing pictures in the bumps of the plaster in an attempt to fall asleep. He had heeded Winston's warning to go to bed early to save his energy for Hanamura, but sleep did not come for the cowboy. Instead he laid in his bed, repeating the events of that day again and again in his mind. 

The rest of the meeting had gone smoothly. Winston explained travel plans and the upcoming mission, which was most likely the easiest one that McCree would ever take part in. They would meet with Fareeha's friend's daughter who was currently living in Hanamura. She would sneak into the Shimada Castle (with help from Athena and Hana, who was a self-taught hacker) and tell Hanzo that her father needed to meet him. ("We'll make it seem like something's going on with her, that someone's hurting her," Genji had explained. "Hanzo's always had a soft side and won't question a little girl sneaking into the estate. Kids have been doing it for years. This way, she'll lead him to where I am and won't put any of us in danger of being compromised.") They would rent two rooms in a motel in the outskirts of town. Genji would be in one, McCree, Hana, and Lúcio in the other. The three would have a live feed of the room next to them and would intervene if things went south. Lúcio would be fulfilling the role of medic while Angela stayed in an aircraft with Tracer at an airport close by. 

While the plan was solid, there was still room with error- especially with two new team members hopping on board. They had gone over escape plans and everything they needed to know. There was still a feeling in Jesse's gut that told him something was going to go wrong. It was too unpredictable and Jesse doubted it would work out. But as he saw the hopeful expression on Genji's face as he explained the plan with Winston, he decided not to argue. He was sure to stuff extra flashbangs and even pepper spray in his pockets. Just in case. 

The meeting finally drew to a close at around 6:30, which gave Jesse a chance to put on some pants and look "not like shit" (Fareeha's words) for the new agents. The flight to King's Row and back went without a hitch. Hana and Lúcio seemed very excited to join Overwatch. Especially Hana, who had gushed over the three on the ship, telling them about the posters of them she had in her room as a kid and begging them to tell her stories. Tracer happily obliged, telling stories of her and Winston from the pilot seat. Angela explained their cybernetics process, sharing funny stories of a young Genji while she examined Lúcio's legs. ("Good craftmanship," the doctor said, admiring the skates Lúcio donned. He blushed. "But I think we can do a bit better." She smiled and winked.) McCree, however, hesitated as he thought of stories. He had blocked many of them out after Overwatch was shut down, only to get them back while wandering the watchpoint's halls, each more painful than the rest. Eventually the cowboy put on a forced smile and told them about Blackwatch and the infamous Gabriel Reyes. Hana seemed to love those. ("How did you not murder him?" Hana asked, legs crossed and gazing intently at McCree. "Angela would've murdered  _me_ ," was his response.)

The five of them arrived at the watchpoint. The two new agents were shuffled in and given a tour. Tracer, now fully awake, blinked throughout the hallways, showing off her chronal accelerator to Lúcio. Hana gushed over Torbjörn's machinery, the mechanic gladly showing her plans of projects that he wouldn't let anyone have access to. Even though he didn't know Torbjörn very well, McCree was _just_ a bit jealous. Later in the day, Lúcio insisted on making dinner, even when Winston refused. ("I'm not your guest, I'm a member of Overwatch now!" Lúcio had argued. "Consider this my initiation and thanks.") A few hours later, the kitchen was filled with the smell of spices and oranges. It smelled appetizing, like something that many of the agents of Overwatch could never seem to make. He called them all outside, hands and arms full with steaming plates which he placed on blankets covering the asphalt. 

"Well I'll be damned," McCree said as he slapped Lúcio on the back. "Ya didn't have t'make a picnic for us!"

Lúcio had just smiled and started listing off all the food in front of him. " _Feijoda, empanadas, queiejo coalho, tapioca..._ " he listed, a hint of a faded accent lilting off his voice. McCree's eyes widened with every word. "A little taste of home."

After spouting praises and thanks, the group dug in. Laughter filled the air as they sat with friends and ate great food. "Please cook for us every day," Lena had said while stuffing her mouth with _empanadas_. In Jesse's days of Blackwatch, they never had time to sit and eat with each other. Everything was too damn stressful to even laugh. He would never admit it to anyone- especially Genji, who knew how much pain the recall had brought to Jesse- but it was nice. 

The group watched the sun dip under the horizion together, enjoying each other's company before the mission tomorrow. Winston had to practically drag everyone away to get them to go to bed. With a full stomach, Jesse should have slept easily. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about the mission. He heard Gabe's voice telling him to suck it up, but it did little to help. The sun was just rising as sleep enveloped Jesse's mind, his worries of the upcoming day forgotten. 

For now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're off! a little more plot this time, still kind of setting it all up. this was really fun to write, i love tired genji. he's so blunt :)
> 
> also i had to look up how cowboys speak because i have no fucking idea how to write jesse's dialogue. (i'm pretty sure futuristic cowboys don't say "namby-pamby city slickers", but hey, you never know.) also i imagine he says damn a lot and adds the phrase "m'lady" into every possible sentence, since he's a total dork.
> 
> i have a tumblr if you want to say hi!
> 
> alecjb.tumblr.com


	4. Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I'm just looking for a witness in all of this, looking for a witness to get me through this." ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohohohoooo another chapter!! leave me a kudos or comment if you liked it, if you like! i thrive off of that stuff. <3

"Hello, brother."

Hanzo froze, a shiver shooting its way down his spine. The voice behind him rang out like a machine- metallic, cold, unfeeling. Yet, there was a hint of humanity. Still, it was nothing like Hanzo's brother. Nothing like the person Hanzo knew was dead, he corrected himself. The soldier stared out the window opposite him, trying to make out the figure of the  _thing_ standing behind him. A mix between human and omnic? It would be dangerous, strong, knowledgeable... and most likely calculating Hanzo's next moves, he realized. A hand slowly inched towards his back, grasping at an absent bow.  _Damn_. The former archer sighed inwardly at his stupidity, then spoke, not daring to turn around and face the monster behind him. 

"My brother died nearly two decades ago." It was fact. Hanzo felt a bump in his throat as the image of the last time he saw his brother flashed in front of his eyes. Bloody, bleeding,  _dying_ \- all while crying for Hanzo to stop. The soldier swallowed the bump down, the memory with it. That was in the past. His brother was dead, and that was final.

"It seems that you need to catch up on your research," the thing said. He spoke as if it were fact, in the same way his supposed "brother" had spoken a minute ago. "Didn't Talon inform you that your brother was still walking among the living?"

"Why would I ever associate myself with a terrorist group?" Hanzo spoke, his mind racing over every word he uttered. There was no way that the thing knew Talon had approached him. According to the man, no one within the organization knew either. It shouldn't matter, he did not take the offer-

 _"But you didn't refuse to either, I assume."_  The thing had changed languages, fluent Japanese rolling off his tongue in an accent long forgotten. It spoke matter-of-factly, a hint of laughter hiding behind a mask of professionalism.  _"You'll lead one of the most influential crime rings in history, but you would never sink so low as to join a terrorist group."_  The voice moved to the left of him, then to the right- the thing was circling him. Hanzo closed his hand into a fist.  _"Something about morals, but we both know you just want power. A good reputation. Joining Talon would ruin all of that. But then again,"_  the voice slid closer to his ear. He felt no breath on his skin, instead cold metal and machinery. The soldier refused to move, standing his ground, ready to attack.  _"Given the right offer, given enough power... you'd forget it all and go join them."_

It laughed. With speed unattainable by none other than a Shimada, Hanzo turned around, pinning the thing to the nearest wall in a flash. He was greeted with a metal body- cold, solid, strong. Instead of gazing into his enemy's eyes, he stared at a faceplate, a strip of florescent green light staring back at him. An omnic. But it still did not explain the human voice. Instead of pondering the means in which this thing was created, he placed a hand to the thing's neck, his grip tight around the freezing metal.  _"How dare you have the audacity to laugh?"_ he roared, matching the language of the stranger.  _"_ _You know nothing about me!"_

 _"That's where you're wrong, brother,"_ the stranger spoke. Hanzo tightened his grip on the omnic's neck, threatening to crush the metal. To his surprise (or perhaps worry), the omnic's voice became slightly strained.  _"I know you. I know that you still clean the sword that you struck down your brother with. I also know that you switched to a bow since the memory of him haunts you. I know that you wish to leave the Shimada clan, even though it would cost your life."_

 _"I would never leave the Shimada Clan. I'm the only reason that it's still operating. I'm the only reason the world fears the name 'Shimada',"_ Hanzo growled, his breath fogging up the omnic's faceplate. It somehow knew about his late brother, but no matter. It was only a piece of machinery, Hanzo told himself, it would be much easier to kill than a human. But... was the thing all ones and zeroes? Hanzo pushed the thought aside, listening to the omnic speak. 

 _"Hm,"_ the thing hummed. It titled its head to the side not in fear, Hanzo realized, rather mocking him. The soldier tightened his free hand into a fist, ready to strike.  _"We both know that's not true, but I won't push it."_ Hanzo could sense that it was smiling, somehow, if there was something human behind that mask. He shivered.  _"If you ever have a change of heart, I have an offer for you. Join Overwatch."_

Before he could catch himself, a laugh escaped Hanzo's mouth. The thing looked stunned- as stunned as it could without a face.  _"That's cute. Has Overwatch gotten so advanced as to make a human into an omnic? Just imagine what a fit the UN would have."_

_"Since when did you care about being lawful? Based on my prior knowledge, you're the leader of a criminal empire."_

_"I'd rather not be associated with a corrupt organization that killed its own leaders. At least here we have honor."_

The omnic shrugged as much as it could being pinned against a wall.  _"Things have changed. If you ever change your mind, come and find us. We're hidden in the rocks, and would love to have another member on board."_ The omnic began to raise his hand, and in the blink of an eye, Hanzo found himself in the omnic's place. He stood with his back against the wall, staring at the cyborg. It did not pin him or attempt to attack him, instead staring intently at the soldier.  _"See you around_ _, brother,"_ it said as it walked to the window. It made almost no sound as it climbed onto the open windowsill. With gracefulness that not even Hanzo possessed, it spread its arms and fell backwards out the opening. Despite his better judgement, Hanzo rushed to the window, only to be greeted by an empty alleyway and the erratic beat of his heart. 

* * *

_"Hello, brother."_

In, out. It'll make it go away. The simple phrase repeated in Hanzo's mind as he entered the castle. Not that anyone would have knowledge of the meeting he had attended, but shaky breathing could raise eyebrows. Twidling fingers, feet moving too fast, it could all cause questions. Therefore, Hanzo Shimada strode confidently down the halls of the Shimada Castle, head held high. No one would notice how hard his heart was beating or how fast his mind was racing if he remained stoic. The last thing Hanzo needed was questions. 

Even though the meeting happened weeks ago, every time that his mind ever touched upon the subject it felt as if Hanzo's lungs were on fire. He replayed the events of the meeting in his mind on a loop; trying to discover the minute details he overlooked, honing in on that  _thing's_ face. Everyone had heard rumors of Overwatch performing human experimentation. Their extracurricular activities were marketed as "the hero the world needed". If that meant turning a human into an omnic- probably a war machine as well- Hanzo would've turned down the offer to join Overwatch. He would've called the police and gotten the bounty that the UN had placed on all operating Overwatch agent's head. But there was still the chance, albeit a notion that Hanzo was foolish to consider, that the thing was his brother. 

"There's no way, _"_ Hanzo muttered as he entered his room. He cringed at the sound of his shaky voice as he talked to himself- a telltale sign that he was stressed. The elders of the clan had tried to repress it once he had begun to lead the Shimada Clan. They feared that he would spill confidential information and bring the kingdom to the ground. But after losing the only person Hanzo had to confide in, he found it difficult to stop. "I saw him die. I killed him. There's no way that Genji's alive." Tears welled in the soldier's eyes, yet he refused to let them fall. It was absurd to think that his brother was still alive. "I have a kingdom to run. I cannot succumb to foolish emotions." Hanzo repeated the words he heard from his father years ago. He was the king, he wouldn't get caught up on the memory of someone who was dead. 

After ending up looking at the same corner for the fifth time, Hanzo realized he was pacing. He sat on his bed, clenching and unclenching his fist in sets of seven. He crossed his ring finger over his pinky and held it there, slowing his breathing. He knew he shouldn't be doing it, his obsession with numbers and counting was a sign of weakness. Closing his eyes for minutes at a time as he cleared the images of his bleeding brother out of his head was distracting. God forbid he start repeating certain words to keep the thoughts away, because people would think he was mad. When his mother had taken him to a mental health clinic as a child, she was beaten. When Hanzo had the words "obsessive compulsive disorder" marked on his medical records, he was as well. Every burn from the butt of a cigarette added to the sets of seven. Every slap or kick put in another muttering of the mantra to protect his brother. Every death threat was met with crossed toes and eyes clenched tight, doing so only to protect his brother and mother. All of it was weak, and Hanzo Shimada was anything but that. 

"It's okay," he whispered, his voice returning back to the smooth, strong one that he was accustomed to. "He's dead. There's nothing to worry about." Even when uttering the words, there was still an itch at the back of Hanzo's mind. He wouldn't join Overwatch, no matter what the thing had said, but it did little to quell his wonder. 

Hanzo reached for the laptop on his bedside table. He could cover up researching Overwatch as... curiosity. It wasn't really a lie, Hanzo assured himself. He was curious. Nevertheless, he found himself clenching his fist. After a quick search of former Overwatch bases, he came upon one fitting his query. Hidden in the rocks was a nod to the Gibraltar watchpoint. It was dangerous, Hanzo thought, to have Overwatch potentially operating on one of their old bases. Cocky. Despite himself, a smile formed on the soldier's lips. It was kind of clever, rea-

A knock on Hanzo's door interrupted him mid-thought. The soldier snapped his laptop shut and reached for a bow hanging on the wall out of instinct. He hadn't used it in years, but a lifetime of training stayed with one. No one came to Hanzo's room. Why would someone-

Another knock rang throughout Hanzo's room. He swiftly walked to the door, but before he had the chance to open it, his guest on the other side did. The soldier was met with a stern face. It was one Hanzo had never seen before.  _Shit_ , Hanzo thought.  _Am I supposed to know their name?_

"Greetings, Shimada-san, _"_ a woman said, walking past Hanzo and sitting on the windowsill. She looked back at him with a grin, a pair of purple eyes digging their way under Hanzo's skin. On one hand, her fingers, decorated well-kept acrylic nails in the same shade of purple twirled a small device between them. She sat with an air of confidence bordering on arrogance, taking a drag of a cigarette with her free hand. Little purple pyramids were clipped onto a strap hanging off her hip. Hanzo had no idea what they were. Wires, like veins, snaked their way from her hand up into her shoulder, seemingly implanted into her skin. The woman spoke fluent English despite a thick accent. She was intimidating- dangerous- even if Hanzo would never let her know it. 

"Yes? What do you want?"Hanzo said.  _Skip the pleasantries, show them that they are disposable, and never show them any emotion._ The clan elders had repeated these words to Hanzo time and time again, so much so that he had forgotten how to talk like a common person. No, the soldier corrected himself. He wasn't an ordinary person, he ruled over all of them. 

"I've come to make a deal," the woman said with a flick of a hand. As if this were a common occurrence, as if  _Hanzo_ were disposable. "To make this quick, you've made a huge mistake, Hanzo Shimada. You weren't careful enough. You left a trace of where you've been, and we wouldn't want everyone to know where exactly that was, now do we?"

"I do not understand what you are talking abo-"

"Oh, I'm sure you do." The woman stood up, opening her hand with flourish to reveal the small device to be a holovid.  _"_ I have _many_ images of you bringing _many_ different men into your bedroom. And, Jesus Chirst, the amount of alcohol I've seen you sneak out of here? Even my boss doesn't have that bad of a drinking problem, and that's saying something." Images of Hanzo and various men walking in his room together, all of them too close for a "business meeting". Hanzo shuddered inwardly, refusing to show the fear that started to surface. If his clan knew anything about his sexuality, he'd be dead in a matter of minutes. 

"But that's not all." The woman smirked, swiping the holovid to the next slide. A video of Hanzo and the omnic played, their conversation playing over its speakers.  _Shit._ "I know you've been approached by Overwatch. Now, since you didn't really say no, we can do a little bit of editing magic. Say I take this video, and make you say yes. All I would need is a little voice sample, which you have so graciously given to me. _Gracias._ "Hanzo heard his own voice utter the word "yes".  _Shit!_

"If this were to get out to the public, you would be ruined. You'd be disowned by your clan, and the whole world. You'd be breaking laws put in place by the UN. And I don't doubt there's a little bit more I could dig up." She smiled, lifting her head up slightly to reveal a tattoo of something that resembled a skull decorating her neck. She had the upper hand, she had Hanzo backed into a corner. He tightened the grip on Storm Bow. There was no way out besides-

"What do you want?" Hanzo said, hoping his voice wasn't shaking. He was so stupid to follow the girl that day. Now he could only feel the kingdom he had built crumbling down, him along with it.

"Your time." She chuckled at Hanzo's confused expression. "See, all I really wanted was to give you a warning. I had to bust my ass to get out here, but it's _totally_ worth it for your reaction.This video is already on every holovid in the world. Probably on that lunar colony as well. I just figured you'd need a distraction while we uploaded it. It would be quite a shame to see your face on every news network alone, _amigo_." To prove her point, the woman swiped the holovid once more. Hanzo was greeted with a news anchors, omnic and human, all reporting on the same story: him.  _SHIT._ "News travels fast, don't you think? It's amazing what can happen in a matter of minutes."

As if it were second nature, Hanzo brought his bow up to the woman's neck, and arrow already nocked. The adrenaline rushing through him stopped his hands from shaking and his voice from giving out. "You'll pay for this," he growled. 

"Sure. But, you see, if you would've just taken another offer that was given to you, we wouldn't be having this problem." Hanzo stood there, staring incredulously at the woman. There's no way, no one else knew... "But in reality, I don't think you'll have time to make me pay. To give you some friendly advice, I'd run. Quickly." 

As if on cue, Hanzo heard footsteps coming down the hall. He raced to the door, locking it in an attempt to buy time. Hanzo had no time to count to seven of control his breathing as he cut past the woman and out his window, with only a bow, the clothes on his back and the feeling of an impending heart attack. 

 _"Diviértete_ _,_ soldier _,"_ were the last words he heard before he started running. 

* * *

After the mission a few weeks ago, Overwatch was on lockdown to protect themselves from getting exposed. No one would know if Hanzo would tell anyone about the meeting. If they did, everyone on base would be screwed. Hana, of course, had flown off the base on the first day back, (which was breaching half the protocols, Winston was sure to inform her) only to return with a large gray box that had definitely seen better days. She had walked in the kitchen, a smug look placed upon her face and holding out her gift for everyone to see. 

"I got you all a gift. Like a 'we-didn't-succeed-in-our-mission-but-we-still-kind-of-kicked-ass' gift," she had explained, setting it down in an empty corner of the room. Streamers and deflated balloons hung limply from the walls from Lena's birthday party a few days prior. Probably not the aesthetic that Hana was looking for, but Jesse didn't judge. Although, no one seemed to know-

"What in the flying fuck is that?" Jesse asked, tilting his head from side to side to try and make sense of the box. Genji snorted in the seat next to him, the beer he was drinking spilling all over the counter. 

"It's a karaoke machine," Hana said proudly. She stuck her hands on her hips and beamed at the group. 

"Still doesn't answer my question, darlin'."

"How don't you know what karaoke is, McCree?" Lena said from the counter opposite him. "Haven't you ever been to a party?"

"They also sometimes have them at bars, which I'm know you've spent plenty of time at," Fareeha added. She smirked as Jesse shot a her a dirty look. 

"He was probably too drunk to remember it," Genji said. That earned him a slap on the arm. 

"Is no one gonna tell me what the hell that thing is?" _  
_

After a quick Google search, Jesse had found it what it was. Every Friday since then was dubbed karaoke night. The first time was kind of nice, but it had turned into a full-scale war. Jesse- who refused to sing unless he was quite tipsy or was blackmailed- was a judge, along with Winston. By the third week bets were being placed, anything from the loser doing the winner's laundry, to burning Jesse's Stetson. ("Aw, hell nah," Jesse had said, grabbing a microphone and singing the worst rendition of "Cotton-Eyed Joe" that anyone had heard. The next day, all of Overwatch sat in front of a cozy fire made out of a cowboy hat and serape- among other things.) This week it was "Hana vs. Lúcio: The Battle of the Century", as Hana had called it. To everyone's surprise, Lúcio was a no-show. 

"He's afraid I'm gonna beat his ass," Hana said, absentmindedly tinkering with the machine. 

"You realize he's a musician, right?" Angela questioned. Jesse could tell she was annoyed at the fact that Hana won against her last week. "If anyone's ass is getting beaten, it's yours."

"No, Hana's right," Jesse said, staring at the clock. It had been twenty minutes since the start of the night. "Lúcio loves these things. He wouldn't be late to one."

A few moments later, a worried-looking Lúcio skated into the room. He looked immediately to Genji, placing his hand behind his head in an attempt to soothe his anxiety. 

"Have, uh, any of you checked your holovids lately? There's something you need to see."

Every pair of eyes turned to their pockets. None of them had ever seen Lúcio nervous, even when he accidentally almost killed Fareeha during training. The usually smiling man had his brow knit, tapping his toe and twiddling his thumbs. There was even a bit of sweat starting to form along his hairline. This had to be bad.

Jesse finally found one deep inside the pocket of his jeans, turning it on with a quick wave of his hand. Everyone in the room crowded around him as he swiped to the front page. A strangled gasp came out from somewhere to the side of Jesse as they read. His heart beat quicker as he skimmed, the news getting worse and worse. It was the goddamn fall of Overwatch all over again. 

_"Hanzo Shimada convicted of breaking the Petras Act..."_

_"Engaging with a human/omnic hybrid..."_

_"Overwatch confirmed to be operating again..."_

_"Bounties on Jesse McCree, Angela Zigler, Lena Oxton..."_

"Shit," Jesse muttered, but he doubted any of them could hear him over the sound of their hearts pounding out of their chests. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lotta notes (in varying degrees of importance) in this one, so get ready:
> 
> i was listening to girls/girls/boys on repeat while writing this lol. and i write these chapters over days, so i think i've listened to the song around 100 times. this prompted me to name the chapter "GAAAAYYYY" as a placeholder... and then i accidentally uploaded it while i was writing. i took it down right away but if anyone saw it... congrats? you got a non-proofread version of this chapter entitled "GAAAAYYYY"
> 
> since poor old hanzo has OCD, many of his compulsions and intrusive thoughts are based off mine. (legit i have to stop typing so often so i can fold my hands) so don't worry about poor representation, your friendly neighborhood author is diagnosed with OCD. 
> 
> it's also worth mentioning that many of the dates in overwatch aren't properly established, so i'm estimating that hanzo tried to kill genji a little under 20 years ago. around when genji was sixteen, hanzo was nineteen, and mccree was eighteen. i also gave our little guest a change in appearance, but i hope i made it obvious enough to who it is. she was originally one of my favs without a mask, but i figured he'd be too important and edgy to actually go back and see hanzo after he indirectly rejected him. 
> 
> anyways, i have a tumblr if you'd like to say hi!
> 
> alecjb.tumblr.com


	5. Dead on Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"This conversation's still dead on arrival; there's no way to talk to you when you're dead on..." ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, drop a kudos or comment if you liked this! i love hearing from you guys. i check back here everyday and get so excited when i see that people even take time to look at my work. your support and kudos and comments and hits keep me going <3
> 
> my tumblr is alecjb.tumblr.com if you'd like to say hi!

Darkness threatened to envelop Jesse's mind as he sat, staring at the holographic screen displayed in front of him. His name, along with all of those he cared about, floated across the screen. Their faces accompanied them, bounties and warnings finishing the package.

They were screwed. 

Jesse's lungs burned as he slipped out the kitchen and into the dark hallways of Watchpoint: Gibraltar. He had worked in this business for far too long and recognized an impending panic attack the minute his head started to hurt. The dread and anxiety worked its way through his body as he wandered the halls of the base. First it was his legs threatening to give out and becoming wobbly- almost to the point where Jesse had to sit down. It spread further up, his chest burning, his heart and head threatening to burst. His entire body rebelled against him, shaking and spasming involuntarily. A calm Jesse would've told himself that this wasn't the end, that they were well hidden and not in danger, and the UN would eventually realize that they were no threat to the world. But the panicked Jesse shrank into a ball at the doorway leading into the basement, trembling as memories and possibilities flooded his judgment. 

This was no different than the rest of his life, really. He had a bounty on his head ever since he was fifteen. He was the hunter- and more importantly, the hunted- even before Overwatch had fallen. That was when he was alone. A young, stupid kid in the Deadlock Gang, plagued by the idea of fortune and power. But now... now he wasn't alone. The "family" that he had left, the half that wasn't dead yet was now at risk of joining the other half. His heart even started to pang at the thought of Hanzo running for his life-

No, Jesse thought. He was the reason that this had happened. That damn traitor didn't deserve his sympathy. If he needed to sympathize for anyone, it was his brother. Even though Jesse wasn't fond of the "Hanzo's a good guy" philosophy that Genji had, he'd still stand by him. This was his own brother- his family- they were talking about, and Jesse was worrying about a fake family he had tried to scrape together for himself. God, Genji had it so much worse, why was he so stupid?

Jesse buried his head in between his knees, breathing slowly as waves of panic washed over him, each worse than the next. Even with all his thoughts racing, obsessions about the shit that they were in, he was still able to think about how utterly  _pathetic_ he looked.  _I'm a thirty-seven year old man that's sitting on the floor like a damn child,_ he thought, pinching himself in the arm. He wasn't sure if it was to ground or to punish himself. Frankly, he didn't care. 

The constant waves of panic slowly subsided into an ocean of regret. While his body had stopped convulsing, he realized once more how damn pathetic he must look. And how stupid all this worrying was. He lifted his head, shaking it almost violently, enjoying the voluntary disorientation. His hair shook widly around him, almost like a wet dog. As he brushed the hair out of his face, he was greeted with a familiar figure standing above him.

"Hey," Genji whispered, rhythmically tapping a finger on the side of his thigh. The other hand held his faceplate- seemingly undamaged, to McCree's surprise. He never took it off unless-

A quick glance upwards and the scratchiness of Genji's voice confirmed his suspicions. Jesse could make out faint tear stains cascading down Genji's cheeks in the dim light. His eyes were red, tears threatening to escape as he sat down next to the cowboy. He looked like shit, though presumably not much better than Jesse. 

"Hey," he responded, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. "How'd you find me?"

"I've known you since I was sixteen. I've lived here for over half of my life," he said, gesturing around them. He still spoke quietly, cautiously, almost as if to not show emotion. Without a faceplate, his voice was no longer masked by mechanics. Genji couldn't hide behind it. Jesse noticed a slight tremor in his hands as he waved them. "I know your hiding spots."

"Hell, now you're just makin' me sound like a child!"

Genji laughed bitterly, his mouth settling back into a frown quickly afterwards. "Basically what we are right now. Children. Crying over some stupid news report. We're pathetic."

"You're not wrong," Jesse muttered. He paused, judging by the stony look on Genji's face that it wasn't the best thing to say. "But it doesn't mean you can't be worried 'bout your brother."

"My brother's an idiot," Genji said. "He let the UN know that we were operating, put all of us  _and_ himself in danger. He always boasted about being a Shimada, how we're all supposed to be 'strong' and 'unfeeling'." He spat out each word, his mouth forming a scowl. "Yeah, look where that fucking got us. I'm a cyborg and he's gonna be dead in the next hour." Before McCree could respond, Genji flung his faceplate at full force down the hall. Jesse simply sat and watched it bounce down the hall, crashing into the wall at the other end. 

"Hey now," Jesse said, slowly placing a hand on Genji's shoulder. He shrugged it away- hard. "You're allowed to be worried. I know you care about him-"

"You don't know anything!" Genji practically yelled, turning around in a flash to face Jesse. Tears streamed faster down his cheeks, his voice trembling as his emotions run rampant. The eyes of a sixteen year-old stared back at Jesse, the rage behind them the same as it was nearly twenty years ago. "I thought he was a good man. I thought he could turn around. But now, look what he's done. He's dug himself an even bigger hole than he was in before, he'll probably go and join Talon at this rate."

"Genj-"

"I don't know why I even bothered forgiving him. He's just the same scum he was when he killed me. Those people never change."

"Oh, Genji, come on-"

"He still talks the same way as he did the day he..."

"Genji..."

Jesse stopped in anticipation of the man sitting next to him to interrupt him, but the interruption never came. Genji's voice had trailed off as tears streamed down his face, harder than Jesse had ever seen. He had known the cyborg long enough to realize that he never talked about his brother. Even though he had forgiven him, some days a hint of resentment still lingered on his tongue as he spoke about Hanzo. Others, it was pain. This time, Jesse guessed, it was the latter.

Jesse never had a chance to speak to Genji after Hanamura. The cyborg had closed himself off, training day and night, only coming to dinners and mandatory social events. He refused to speak about Hanzo, refused to seek solace in anyone. As he choked out a sob, none of that mattered anymore. The cowboy leaned forward and gathered Genji in his arms. There was less flesh than Jesse remembered- the times where Jesse constantly calmed Genji down from panic attacks were long gone. He stroked his hair, a simple gesture he knew Genji found comforting, one that he discovered while working the cyborg through the pain of cybernetics. Genji gripped at the fabric around McCree's arms in an attempt to steady himself. Jesse simply hugged him tighter, trying desperately to remember that Genji wasn't dying this time. The memory of every hug like this snaked through McCree's thoughts as he fought back the urge to place a hand over a nonexistent wound. The hands of an eighteen year-old found their place on the cyborg's back, rubbing up and down the metal- movements memorized years before. 

The two ghosts of mere teenagers sat clinging onto each other in the dark corridor of the watchpoint. Only when the sobs had faded into steady breathing and the spirits returned to their graves did Winston schedule the meeting. The scientist averted his eyes from the security camera feed, only looking back when he was sure the shaking limbs had stilled and the broken bodies had moved elsewhere. 

* * *

Jesse McCree was considering getting a faceplate of his own as he walked into the conference room, eyes still red from a night of little sleep. From the looks of it, none of the other members of the team had such a severe reaction to the news. But as he sat down at his normal seat next to Genji, he couldn't help but notice all the slight differences. Angela and Fareeha's grasp on each other's hands seemed to be tighter than before, Lena looked almost see-through, as if shock had separated her from the time stream. Reinhardt sat solemnly, eyes gazing at everyone at the table, placing a ginormous hand on the backs of those entering. When Winston entered, his hands twitched a bit more than usual, papers threatening to fall everywhere as he sat. 

"Well," Winston said, straightening his back and glancing quickly around the table. "You've obviously all seen the news."

"No shit," Jesse muttered. Angela glared at him, seemingly more fed up with his meeting commentary than usual.

"But, I assure you, this is not the end of the world. This base is well protected, thanks to Torbjörn and Hana. They've directed all the signals coming from here elsewhere around the globe, and created a holographic shield around the base that will mask heat signatures, movements, waste, anything that could alert the UN to our presence."

"Wait," Fareeha said, leaning in front of Angela to get a good look at Torbjörn. "This was your project? You figured out a way to mask this entire base with a _hologram?"_

Torbjörn merely shrugged, winking at Hana. She smiled widely, crossing her arms in pride. Jesse hadn't the faintest idea how it was possible, but it was pretty damn impressive.

"We have no reason to believe that the UN will stop down here to investigate. It would save them time and money to simply fly over the island and look for heat signatures, movement, anything out of the ordinary on a deserted island."

"I'm guessing they'd tell the public they did full searches of every base," Genji added, looking as smug as someone with a faceplate could. "It would quell their worries, and there's no way that anyone would be able to find out otherwise."

"That could be," Winston said, a slight smile appearing on his face. "There is the possibility that they will monitor the base, but there is next to no way of doing it stealthy. If Athena discovers any signs of that, she'll alert me and we'll figure something out. If that does happen, no one is to leave or enter the base."

"Sounds good," Jesse said. This wasn't as bad of a situation after all, he knew he shouldn't have been so worried-

"That's not all," Winston stated, his smile dropping and becoming serious. Jesse's muscles tensed. He clamped a metal hand over flesh to stop from trembling. "Missions will continue normally, although everyone must have a disguise now that our faces are everywhere. But, now there's the possibility that one of us gets caught..."

Winston trailed off. The statement sat in the air above everyone- heavy, foreboding. Lena glanced nervously around the room. Fareeha tapped her fingers on the table. Jesse had spent enough time in Blackwatch to know how this conversation was going to proceed, but it didn't make it any more pleasant.

"Overwatch didn't really have a policy on this... situation," Genji said, sitting up and trying to look friendly. If anything, Jesse thought he looked more intimidating than usual. "Blackwatch did, more or less. Because of the nature of covert operations, we'd be in a lot more trouble if we were caught by anyone. The general rule of thumb was not to say shit."

"Right from the one and only Gabriel Reyes' mouth," McCree muttered. "Puttin' it simply, it's the prisoner's dilemma. Y'all decide with your team if you're all gonna confess or all gonna stay silent. Y'all make up a story if you're gonna tell, and pray to God no one's gonna betray you."

Genji nodded. "Depending on the situation, your team would have a cover story for everyone to tell in the event they were captured. If they refuse to let you go, hopefully it's for less time because you told the 'truth'. Other times, everyone stays silent because the information is too sensitive. You'd often see people making up stories when captured by government agencies in an attempt to serve less time. But unless everyone tells the same one, it'll do shit."

"It's all on trust. You're gonna get the livin' daylights beaten out of you one way or another, and if you betray someone, it's over for all of you."

The entire table stared back at the two Blackwatch veterans. The silence was deafening, each one of them not willing to speak. But Hana, daring as ever, finally broke the quiet.

"Well, that's real fucking cheery," she muttered. Lúcio snorted next to her, covering a smile with his hand. "Also, I don't really think that's how the prisoner's dilemma works."

"Whatever," McCree muttered, pulling his hat down in an attempt to hide his blush. "Close enough."

"Not really-"

"Well then," Winston said, clearing his throat to draw attention back to the matter at hand. "We'll work by that logic. We'll have a story ready for you all, or we'll stay silent. I trust that you all trust each other..."

"Debatable," Fareeha said, locking eyes with Jesse. He glared back at her, matching the death stare she was giving him. He honestly couldn't tell if Fareeha was serious or not. The girl had a talent for theatrics. "That cowboy's pretty shifty. Who the hell wears cowboy boots anymore?"

"Hey! What'd I ever do to you, missy?" Jesse growled. "These boots are perfectly fine, thank you very much."

Hana, Lúcio- everyone besides Jesse, really- started laughing. Genji doubled over, clutching his stomach when Jesse claimed that people still wore Stetsons.

"I-I'm sorry," Genji choked out, grasping at the table for support. "Tha-that's just really fucking funny."  

The remainder of the meeting went without a hitch, the usual smiles and laughs of each member slowly returning. Shining eyes and relaxed bodies joined the mix as a meeting turned into a hang-out. Debates on whether or not the holographic shield would actually work flew about the table. ("All I'm sayin' is that in all the years I've known Torb, all 'e could build is that damn turret," Jesse had argued, earning him a hearty laugh from Reinhardt.) A movie night was planned, then a gaming tournament, then bets on if anyone could actually beat Hana at StarCraft. ("I've been playing for years," Hana said, a smug smile decorating her face as Genji challenged her. "And I have super-human speed, reflexes, and reaction times," was his response. Jesse just sat there, listening to the conversation and wishing he actually had played a video game once in his life.) Drinks and stale chips that were dug out from the back of the pantry entered the equation as the sun started to set. It was nearly 2 AM when Jesse left the conference room, head buzzing and smiling like an idiot. The noise in his brain was louder than usual, but Jesse didn't mind. The cowboy stumbled down the hallways, mind wandering over all the great family he had. He tipped a hat to Genji as he walked out of his room, eyes squinted from the clinically bright lights in the halls. Okay, Jesse had to admit that maybe he was a  _little_ bit too drunk as he slammed into his door, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that everyone was okay. The glazed-eyed gunslinger flopped down onto his bed, clothes still on and door still open. He didn't need to worry about the pounding headache he would have in the morning. His bed was warm and inviting, Jesse gladly sank into it and let the buzz of his mind lull him to sleep. 

A steady, loud, and  _very_ annoying beeping pulled Jesse out of his slumber. The beeping matched the heavy pounding in his head that came with one-too-many shots of whiskey. After years of drinking for most of the day, the cowboy thought that he wouldn't be susceptible to hangovers. Sadly, life had kicked him in the ass once again and given him the worst headache he had ever experienced. He rolled over, a sharp pain shooting through his body as he turned off his alarm clock. If this was how his day was going to go, Jesse didn't want to be awake. 

Reluctantly, Jesse donned a pair of jeans and  red t-shirt, opting to tie his hair back today. If he was going to throw up, at least he would do it with his hair already out of the way. The cold floor tiles did little to help as he practically dragged himself out of his room. Jesse was greeted by Angela and Genji in the kitchen, both in about the same state that the gunslinger was in. Angela sat on the counter, drinking coffee out of the largest mug Jesse had ever seen. A bottle of ibuprofen, and also Genji, lay next to her. 

"Dramatic as ever, I reckon," Jesse said. Genji simply lifted his head slightly up off he ground and waved. With a groan, he smacked his head back down, his arm along with it. Angela sighed.

"Take the damn medicine, Genji, before you start complaining to me about your arm and head hurting even more," Angela muttered as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Genji reached an arm up, grasping for the bottle and eventually knocking it onto the floor. Jesse wondered what was preventing him from even getting up...

"Wait," Jesse said, a sudden wave of realization hitting him. "Genj, did y' sleep here?"

"Couldn't make it to his room," Angela explained, kicking the cyborg's outstretched knee lightly. "Went to bed, got a glass of water, then passed out here. Had to make sure he didn't short circuit himself when I walked in here, seeing him covered in water and curled up on the floor." Genji confirmed the story with a small nod. 

Jesse grinned, knowing all too well that Genji could not handle his alcohol. Too many times did the gunslinger have to carry Genji home from barhopping on their nights off. Last night, Jesse was about in the same state. 

"Say, Doc, you ain't got any magical hangover cure that you've been hidin' from us, do ya?"

Angela smiled slightly and leaned her head into her hand. "Trust me, if I had a hangover cure, I wouldn't be working for Overwatch. I'd be off living in a mansion in the Bahamas with some trophy wife. Just take some ibuprofen and hope you don't throw up," she said, tossing the discarded pill bottle to Jesse. Jesse gladly took them, swallowing four of them in one gulp and praying to some unknown entity that this headache would subside.

After more coaxing than the cyborg would ever like to admit, he finally got off the floor and drank the lukewarm coffee Jesse pushed into his hands. Angela poured each of them a bowl of cereal and made sure they ate every bite, a doctor instinct that she refused to have inherited. Slowly, their headaches started to fade to dull throbs. Other inhabitants of the watchpoint slowly started to file in. First it was Fareeha, grumpy and blunt as ever. She snatched the pill bottle from next to Jesse and took the pills dry, despite Angela's insistent protests. Lena and Hana trailed in not long afterwards, chatting cheerfully about the events planned for next week. Genji was annoyed to see that the two members on the base that did not drink had escaped hangovers, insisting that they "down a bottle of tequila and join the party". Some in groups, some alone, but each agent of Overwatch found their way to the kitchen. Soon, smiles were exchanged and pounding headaches momentarily forgotten. Genji was in the middle of his conspiracy theory of how Ana Amari was still alive when Athena interrupted him. 

"There has been a heat signature located on the far east corner of the watchpoint," the voice of Athena stated from the loudspeaker above them. Each person in the kitchen immediately stopped, breaths held in and eyes aimed at the screen mounted on an empty wall. "It is moving towards the hangar, but... it is moving too fast for me to get a clear picture." An image of an amorphous figure appeared on the screen. It was a flash of silver, black, and striking blue. The thousands of hidden cameras decorating the wall of Watchpoint: Gibraltar were no match for the speed and agility of this thing- whatever it was. 

"Goddammit," Genji muttered, moving closer to the screen. He gazed at it with intense focus, head tilted in recognition. "He shouldn't have come here..."

None of the agents seemed to hear him. The splitting pounding in Jesse's head returned at full force. Pain and heat spread through Jesse's body as fear seized his mind. "I knew that damn holographic shield was gon' do jack shit!" he sputtered, turning to Torbjörn and Hana with a flush face. The young girl looked terrified, an obvious pallor only adding to the package. 

"I-I know it's near foolproof," she muttered. Her voice came out shaky, eyes starting to water under the intense glare of Jesse McCree. "We've tested it more times than I can count!"

"Well that wasn't near enough!" Jesse said, throwing his hands towards the screen. "There's a fuckin' UN agent knockin' at our door!"

"Guys-"

"Hey, if anyone's here it isn't because my machine is faulty. You didn't put yourself under the radar in Hanamura. That damn cowboy hat and those spurs made you the most incongruous thing in all of Japan," Torbjörn growled, the short man walking towards Jesse and staring him down. 

"Guys, seriously-"

"Oh, so it's my fault now? I'm not the one who built a faulty machine!"

"Stop it!" A voice rang through the room, stopping Torbjörn, Jesse, and Hana dead in their tracks. All eyes turned towards the man standing closest to the screen, a strip of green light digging into the trio's eyes. "Stop! You're acting like children! Now quit your insistent whining and get your asses into the hangar." His words were short, final, cutting underneath Jesse's skin like the words of the former Blackwatch commander. The calm, collected (practically) the leader of the group stared them down as he jerked his head towards the door. He started to walk out, not looking behind him as if expecting them to follow as Winston interrupted him. The scientist was noticeably panicked, hands shaking and grasped too tight around a tablet. None of the Overwatch agents had expected this to happen so fast, and all Winston was looking for was a day of rest before planning the emergency procedures.

"Genji, you really shouldn't do that. We don't know who's out there and I can't let you-"

The cyborg spun around on his heel, hand on hips and staring down at the monkey seated on the kitchen floor. Jesse could feel the fire in his eyes even when they were hidden behind a faceplate.

"Winston, with all due respect, shut the fuck up."

Winston sat, slack-jawed in awe along with the rest of his team. With a  _hmpf_ , Genji moved swiftly out of the room. The rest followed him, eyes darting nervously around the corridors of the watchpoint, preparing for impending doom.

* * *

 

Hanzo Shimada had no idea why he even had the nerve to step foot within Watchpoint: Gibraltar. If he had any hope of redemption with the UN or his clan, he would've never came within one hundred miles of this godforsaken place. The voice at the back of his head, stronger than ever before, urged him to flee to the apparent base of Overwatch. 

 _The apparent base of your brother,_ the voice cooed. As much as he wanted to, Hanzo couldn't deny his subconscious. The most intriguing part about this- perhaps the only part that made this trip worth it- was the thought of Genji still being alive. After meeting death himself, finding himself face-to-face with human/cyborg hybrids, and somehow escaping Japan with only a bridge piercing and horrid haircut to show for it, Hanzo was staring to find himself more open to the insane idea of his brother still being alive. 

As he sprinted throughout the base, regretting his decision more with each passing second, he couldn't help but realize how  _infuriating_ this piercing was. The metal moved _just_ the slightest as he ran, only adding to the dull ache and discomfort he was already experiencing. The sensation was akin to the time that he got his ears pierced as a teenager. It did not ache or hinder his concentration when he wasn't thinking about it, but the moment that Hanzo needed to do something important did the new hole in his flesh decide to ache. For example, Hanzo thought, something that would require his utmost attention was running for (possibly) his life in a base containing his dead brother and many other people. That would be a bad time for something to start hurting and take even the littlest amount of attention from the task at hand. 

 _Oh well,_ the archer thought dejectedly.  _I probably deserve this._

Hanzo wished he hadn't gotten the bridge piercing in the first place. But in a quick attempt to change something about his appearance in the hopes that it would momentarily throw an onlooker off the scent of the most wanted man in the world. The haircut added to the ensemble, and he traded in his usual suit and tie for something more traditional. Even if it mean wearing the  _kyudo-gi_ so it covered he tattoo snaking down his arm, he was happy to wear something much more freeing and reminding of a childhood of traditional clothing. The archer had not worn something like this since he was forced to grow up. The Hanzo Shimada underneath the leader- well,  _former_ leader- of a criminal empire discovered that it was nice.

Hanzo's silent ramblings ground to a halt as he saw a flash of silver from the corner of his eye. Immediately he began counting his steps, breathing in rhythm with them as his body caught up with his mind. The counting would help this go better, Hanzo told himself, even though he knew how absurd the thought was. The counting would give him back his brother. After all, isn't that why it started in the first place?

No matter, Hanzo had much more important issues to deal with at the moment, specifically a small group of people walking towards him. Eight or nine, based on a quick survey of his surroundings. This survey included the fact that he was currently in an aircraft hangar, there were about four different exits near him, he could easily take down three or four of the people with a few arrows, and that the group was led by the same omnic and a very angry-looking man. 

Hanzo's heart swelled at the sight of the omnic. There was the slightest chance that he could be his brother, he could tell him how sorry he was...

Or the thing would kill him the moment it got within range.

Hanzo wasn't quite sure what to believe.

The majority of the group stopped approximately fourty feet away from him, by Hanzo's brief estimations. It would give the archer time to flee if, or when this went downhill. However, the omnic and man walked closer, one cautiously and one as if he were marching into battle. Hanzo stood his ground, refusing to budge against a wall or flee before his possible captors. The omnic stopped a few feet away from him. He stared into the strip of green light, searching desperately for a ghost of someone he knew long ago. The florescent glow sucked him in, nearly making him oblivious to the feeling of cold metal slamming its way square into his cheek.

Hanzo nearly fell, the taste of blood filling his mouth as he stumbled. The coppery-taste was all too familiar to the archer, but it did little to stop him from being caught off guard. Hanzo swung his shoulder and grasped Storm Bow, relieved by its familiar touch. In record time an arrow was nocked and the string pulled back tight, the silver tip of arrow aimed at the silver creature's heart.

Hanzo was surprised yet again when he saw the thing pulling the angered man away, a chorus of a word that started with "J" and a string of curses in Hanzo's mother tongue said by a strikingly metallic voice. The man fought in his arms, thrashing desperately as the batch of people ran closer to him. To _Hanzo._  Each one holding a weapon, each one strong enough to knock the archer down if he didn't move fast enough. Hanzo held up Storm Bow, aimed at no one in particular, instincts and a wave of calm flowing over him.

The moment before the kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya! i hope you liked this chapter, it was really fun to work on. (hence the 5k words) they had to meet eventually, only took five chapters ;) if you wanted slow burn, well you've got it!
> 
> and clarifications and notes about this chapter:
> 
> i imagine genj's faceplate has two parts- one for his eyes and one for his mouth. so he can eat with other people and shit. but he rarely takes off the top part where his eyes are bc it's really fucked up. i haven't described what his entire face looks like (and mccree is used to how it looks so he wasn't fazed when he sees genj without one) but trust me. it's fucked up. i also love the relationship that mccree and genji have, like it's totally platonic but they went through shit together and are best buds and don't judge each other for being vunerable bc they've seen each other are their worst. and it's like they're kids again when they're having fun or upset it's my favorite thing ever.
> 
> it's also difficult for me to write hanzo's ocd into this. i don't want it to be all focusing on that and his recovery and blah blah blah, i just want it to be something that's there and occasionally causes problems and flares up and he accepts that it's there (maybe eventually) like it does in my experience. i don't know the right balance for shedding enough light on it but not obsessing (ba dum tssss) about it. and i'm trying to work it into his personality the best i can, so bear with me


	6. Stuck in the Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Cause all along this was lost before it had begun, oh, and on we've been fighting wars that can't be won." ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for the kudos and comments and hits. i love hearing from you guys, i wouldn't be writing if it wasn't for you. updates will be slowing down in the upcoming weeks, school is starting and i won't have as much time to write. i won't abandon this, but just expect not to have an update once to twice a week anymore. 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr and twitter! also check out my series about a transgender jesse mccree!! there's one work right now, but there should be another one coming out soon after this!
> 
> alecjb.tumblr.com & twitter.com/diiffindo

When Jesse landed a punch square between those high cheekbones and strong jaw, he didn't regret it. His prosthetic spared him the pain of putting all his weight behind the punch, and it felt _good_. It had been too long since Jesse had punched someone, and the fact that it was someone he hated for years just put the icing on top of the cake. The gunslinger was ready to go for a few more. In fact, he was hoping he knocked out a few teeth. Yet, as Jesse started to swing his arm, his fist locked onto its target, he found Genji jerking him backwards, spouting curses in fluent Japanese and kicking him in the calf. That goddamn traitor had his bow pointed at them, and Jesse wished for nothing more than to knock the bow out of his hands and the stupid little look off his face. 

Winston, however, had a different idea. 

"Hanzo, put the weapon down." The scientist spoke matter-of-factly, walking towards the man with arms outstretched. "No one here is going to hurt you."

"I can't promise nothin'," Jesse growled and writhed even more in Genji's hold. Hanzo evidently hear him as he glanced towards his attacker and pointed his bow towards him. 

Those words and the action of finding a new target seemed to knock Hanzo out of a trance. The archer blinked, taking only a moment to find his words. "I was told that I would be allowed to join your ranks." The cowboy couldn't help but be surprised by his voice, even if he had heard it before. He sounded so professional, controlling, exactly what the leader of a criminal empire would sound like. If Jesse didn't stop himself, he might've been intimidated. 

"Yes, but we cannot attempt to negotiate unless you lower your weapon." It was Genji who spoke this time, calm and collected even while staring into the eyes of a brother that could very likely kill him again. "You must lower Storm Bow."

Confusion flashed under Hanzo's stoic expression. They were getting under his skin.  _Good._

"Your friend," the archer said, jerking his head towards the still restrained cowboy, "attacked me. How should I know that he will not do so again? Or any of you, for that matter? The last time we met, I recall the one holding that cowboy back pinned me to a wall."

"I assure you, none of those events will transpire," Genji explained, as he kicked Jesse in the calf again. Jesse would have kicked him right back, but he knew that Genji was nowhere _near_ using all of his strength. As with most people, he was fond of his leg, and didn't really want to see Angela's face when he asked for another prosthetic. 

"We'll be nice. Right, McCree?" he growled into the gunslinger's ear. Jesse nearly flinched, a shiver shooting down his spine. It had been years since the cyborg had referred to him as "McCree". It sounded foreign, yet powerful. It seemed that the Shimada brothers seemed to share a few traits.

"Yes, dad," he muttered, and felt his arms being released. The lingering cold of the cyborg's hands stayed on his arms, almost a reminder that Genji would not be afraid to use excessive force if Jesse tried to attack the intruder.  _God_ , did he want to kick that damn archer's ass all the way to next Sunday. But it was his best friend's brother, who happened to have a very nice voice.

Jesse pushed the thought away as soon as it appeared. A voice inside reminded him that shit could hit the fan at any moment, and here he was, thinking about this man's  _voice._ _Stupid_ , Jesse thought, mentally slapping himself to focus on his target. 

The archer's glare dug into Jesse. His eyes shot like daggers, cold, calculating- unforgiving. The same eyes of someone who had killed his brother to gain power. Someone who was not afraid to kill for his own gain. Someone who worked for the "greater good". After a moment of staring at the cowboy, making sure he would not attack, Hanzo lowered his bow. 

"I'm not happy about this either, cowboy," the soldier snarled, walking towards the agents with the bow at his side. "I'm not fond of the idea of working with multiple people who have attacked me. This is my only option." The archer's gaze snapped to the man at Jesse's side. "And... I was told that my brother would be here, assuming that was not a ruse." 

"I wanna know that you're gon' do once you find him," Jesse responded. He itched to hold the hilt of Peacekeeper, but there was no way of attacking or defending this man without someone getting caught in the crossfire. It took a moment for the cowboy to realize that his weapon-of-choice was sitting in his room, flashbangs and pocketknife along with in. His heart sank.

"You really think I would try to kill him again?" Hanzo looked as if he were going to laugh. The faint click of the archer's heel hitting the ground in a rhythmic pattern told Jesse otherwise. "I think that would be foolish, seeing as you and all your... friends... would try to kill me." 

"That is true," Winston explained. Although the scientist's tone was serious, there was a slight smile forming on his face.  "No one here has gone on a mission since Hanamura, and I am sure every one of them would love to get some target practice. However, since you are interested in joining us, I suppose it would not be an option."

"I only wish to stay with you until I clear my name. I will not accompany you on missions or help in any way. I will stay away, and only ask of you to provide me some place to stay. I have nowhere else to go where I will not be captured."

Winston glanced at the group behind him. Each sported a frown and seven pairs of accusatory eyes laid upon the archer. 

"We will let you stay for one night," Winston spoke, finally, after sinking into a contemplative trance. Jesse felt his mouth open in protest, but the scientist cut him off. "You will stay in a holding cell, and it would not be wise to try to escape. My team and I will discuss this situation, and tomorrow morning we will remove you from the island or let you stay depending on our decision."

Hanzo's frown deepened. The archer looked at the monkey with disdain, a hesitant hand grasping his bow tightly. The soldier calculated the distance between himself and the nearest window. The businessman weighed his options and considered negotiating. Hanzo Shimada felt panic bubble beneath the confines of his chest.

A moment passed before Hanzo spoke. 

"Very well."

He really did have no other choice. 

Hanzo soon found himself being taken into a room, bow and arrows confiscated. He was left with nothing but a cot, a toilet, sink, and a measly blanket lying haphazardly on the floor. It would do for the night. 

A floor below him, an argument had arisen.

"He could get our information 'nd tell the goddamn UN! Why the  _hell_ didya think this was a good idea?"

Jesse stood above the conference table, hands outstretched and hair flowing widely around him, the attempted neatness forgotten in his rage. His head pounded at the remnants of last night and the man locked in a room a floor above him. Genji reached to pull him down, but the cowboy wasn't finished. 

"Do ya even  _think_ anymore, Winston? That man is dangerous, and now y'all are here sayin' that we should let him stay with us! We don't know what he's up to!"

"Jesse, really-"

"You don't either, Genj!" Jesse said, turning to stare down at the cyborg as he pulled on his arm once again. "Just because he's your damn brother 'nd all don't mean you know what he's thinkin'!"

"Hanzo isn't like that. He is honorful, and will not betray someone who gave him refuge. If anything, kicking him off Gibraltar would be worse." The cyborg spoke with the type of understanding only a brother could have, knowing the ways of someone he spent nearly half of his life with. There was no fear hiding beneath his voice, instead, there was hope.

Jesse seldom saw his friend have genuine hope anymore. The few times he did sense that sparkle in his eyes behind the faceplate was when Genji mentioned his brother. 

"He's right, Jesse." The voice of Angela rang clear through all the noise in Jesse's mind, the doctor speaking with a calming voice that no other possessed. If Jesse didn't know better, he would have thought it was healing him. "He's already here, he could easily tell the UN if we kick him out now. We might as well let him stay and keep a close eye on him."

"Plus," Fareeha added, glancing in Genji's direction with a sad smile, "he could get to see his brother again. Hanzo was obviously interested in that."

"But 'e could kill 'im!" Jesse put his hands on his head, breathing deeply and closing his eyes before he spoke. "We don't know what he's gonna do, okay? I jus' don't want anyone gettin' hurt because we took pity on him."

Cold metal laid upon Jesse's flesh, the cyborg taking hold of his hand and squeezing it gently. "No one's going to get hurt. Hanzo wouldn't do that." Jesse inhaled the words, trying desperately to grab hold of the hope that lay within them. Genji's familiar touch, metallic material against flesh, sought to calm the worrying cowboy. He tightened his grip. He could see the consolation, the hope, the overwhelming knowledge that everything would be okay right in front of him, but Jesse couldn't quite reach it. That  _damn_ archer blocked his view, the tip of an arrow that threatened to strike through the flesh and bone of those he loved if they let him stay. Then there was the suits, the barrels of guns, Jesse's name on every holovid in the world. Each way he looked, there was something blocking that happy ending. Something blocking him from just having a _family_ , from just protecting the people he held near and dear. Yet, the tip of the arrow was intriguing. Dangerous, but with less risk- more control and strength and power. 

The safer option. One that Jesse never in a thousand years thought that he would choose. 

"Fine," he muttered as he slumped back into his seat, still holding Genji's hand. "But I'm not happy about it."

"I know," Genji said, tone neutral. Jesse knew the cyborg too well to even think that there wasn't a smile hiding underneath that mask. 

* * *

Jesse soon found that Hanzo was speaking the truth when he said that he would stay out of their way. 

Barring a few awkward close encounters in the kitchen and halls, Jesse had not seen the archer anywhere. He  _knew_ he was there, which only made it all the more frustrating. Faint, trademark clicks of metal echoed down the hallways late at night, passing by Jesse's room and a few doors over. The two Shimada brothers both had similar footsteps, Jesse had become accustomed to the sound of prosthetics wandering down the corridors of Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Jesse could only tell them apart by the fact that Genji's room was on the complete opposite side of the residential wing. 

The cowboy found himself to have memorized the archer's routine. Times when Jesse couldn't fall back to sleep and got up for a cup of coffee at six AM gave him a chance to get a peek at a sleepy-looking soldier lounging in a chair near the wall. The days that Jesse slept in, a fresh pot of coffee was waiting for the team- one that everyone swore they didn't make. Distinct  _thunks_ echoing through a closed door told Jesse that Hanzo was in the training range around nine PM, which caused an angry annoyed adjust his routine so he would not have to be in the same room- alone- with the archer. The same, familiar clicks outside his door told him that Hanzo went to bed at ten. 

For the rest of the fifteen hours that Hanzo was awake, he was elusive to everyone. 

Genji had not spoken of whether or not he had made amends with his brother, a fact that drove every agent on base mad. Lúcio and Hana had spent a day searching for the missing man so the two brothers could have a "family talk". By the end of the day, they had no archer to show for it, not even an arrow shot at them in place of a warning. Gibraltar was indeed a large place, with many hidden tunnels, locked rooms, and high rafters to conceal yourself, but Jesse had never seen anyone able to go without being caught for so long. Lúcio had begged Athena to search for the archer's heat signature. To Winston's credit, that command was password protected. It drove Jesse- who was helping the musician as an attempt to help Genji- to practically beg Winston for the password. 

"Winston, buddy, none of us know if Genj and Hanzo have spoken. They're brothers, they need t' talk!" Jesse had said. He had used the sweet, smooth drawl that was notorious for allowing the cowboy to get his way. Even so, the will of the scientist was unwavering. 

"Just give them time," Winston responded. "I know you want the best for Genji, but you can't force him to talk with his brother." Winston gave Jesse a gentle pat on the shoulder- as gentle as an ape could be- and strode off to reset Athena's passwords. 

By the third week since Hanzo arrived, Jesse had had enough. 

At eight-thirty PM, the sound of spurs could be heard making their way across the tile flooring of the watchpoint. To anyone passing by, it seemed like the cowboy was walking normally- tipping his hat to anyone he came across, smiling and winking at a few others. Jesse's feet moved with purpose- with a plan to fix the silence between Overwatch and their guest. Though Jesse was sure Hanzo would not hurt him, he still pulled the serape tight around him, reveling in the feeling of pressure and warmth it provided. Hanzo didn't have to see the foolish, nervous Jesse. He hoped he never would be such a blunder to the point where the damn archer would see him cry.

The training range was vacant as Jesse strode in. It was no surprise, none of the other inhabitants of Gibraltar trained after dark. Obnoxiously clinical lighting filled the massive room when Jesse flicked on the lights, the sharp click of the overheads turning on nearly made Jesse jump. After making a stop to retrieve ammunition for Peacekeeper- bullets that a certain engineer made specifically for Jesse- the cowboy stood in front of a dummy. Each week, their targets changed. Some were robots that moved freely around the range. (They weren't  _omnics_ , Winston assured everyone, but Jesse wasn't quite sure what he meant.) One week there were solid holograms (Jesse, once again, had no damn idea how that worked) that flashed in and out of existence at will.

This week there were scarecrow-like creatures. The things moved back and forth on a track, much like the rigged carnival games Jesse always won as a child. With a steady hand and quick trigger finger, six of the scarecrows had holes right between where their eyes should be. Jesse smiled softly and reloaded, repeating the process until he heard the door open behind him. 

Being sure to lower his gun and put the safety on, Jesse turned towards the door. He was greeted with the very man he was looking for. A pair of amber eyes stared back at him, glancing away in an uncharacteristic display of anxiousness. When Jesse tilted his head just the slightest, the archer straightened and looked back at the cowboy. Hanzo's hair was tied back with a long golden ribbon, it seemed to be like Genji's. A large bruise decorated prominent cheekbones, and Jesse felt only the slightest twinge of regret.  He wore the clothes he had arrived in- a  _kyudo_ -something, if Jesse's memory served him right. This time he had a clear shot of a tattoo weaving its way down his arm- striking blue dragons accentuating his muscles and adding to the powerful air around him. 

Powerful. That was all the damn archer ever looked like. 

"I am sorry, I did not know you were here," Hanzo said, slinging the quiver of arrows that he was carrying over his head and backing out the open door. His voice was rough, quiet, the voice of someone who did not have the need for words for a long while. "I will leave you be-"

"Nah, it's okay," Jesse said, waving his hand towards him as if he was beckoning a frightened puppy. "There's plenty of dummies t' go around." 

The archer stood in the doorway, still and stoic. Only a moment passed before he walked forward, taking a place as far away from Jesse as possible. He was frowning. Nevertheless, the gunslinger couldn't really blame him.

"The name's Jesse. Jesse McCree," the cowboy said, unable to think of anything else to say in the crushing silence between them. Jesse had not fired his gun since Hanzo arrived, instead, he studied the man next to him as he cleaned his bow. He was meticulous, paying attention to every single inch of the weapon. Even if Jesse did hate him, he felt a surge of respect.

"Shimada, but you already knew that," Hanzo responded offhandedly. The line sounded as if he had spoken it thousands of times. Jesse knew that in Japan, people often to referred to each other by their last names- something about respect or professionalism, the cowboy wasn't quite paying attention when Genji explained it- yet the name sounded foreign. Too uptight. 

Jesse didn't realize that the  _thump_ of arrows hitting the dummies had stopped until Hanzo looked at him, face full of confusion.

"You are staring." 

"Oh, sorry darlin', just a bit distracted," Jesse responded, staring down at his gun to hide his blush. Though the gunslinger could sense no attraction towards the archer, he seemed to have gotten lost in thought.  _This is only for Genji_ , he reminded himself. It was no time for emotions- nonexistent emotions, at that- to hinder his judgement. 

"I can leave, if I am distracting you," Hanzo offered, surprisingly submissive for the leader of a damn criminal empire, Jesse thought. "I am only here to seek refuge, not to be in your way."

"You're not in my way," he said hurriedly, turning towards the dummies. It was time to get this plan moving. "I was jus' thinkin' about your brother."

An arrow pulled back and ready to strike stopped. Hanzo stood in position to kill, eyes locked onto a dummy moving in front of him. Within the blink of an eye he was turned towards Jesse- this time with the bow at his side and arrow un-nocked. "What about him?"

"Well, honey-" Hanzo flinched at the petname, but the word was so ingrained into Jesse's vocabulary for him to care, "-I was jus' sayin' that no one 'round here has seen you two talk. I know Genj, and he wanted to speak with you-"

"You know Genji?" Hanzo stared at Jesse, brows furrowed and head tilted to the side. Laughter seemed to be hiding beneath the thin line his lips were pressed into. "You know nothing about him."

"Listen,  _Shimada,_ I've known Genji since I was seventeen. I know  _a lot_ about him. Some things that it seems  _you_ weren't around to see."

Jesse regretted the words as soon as they slipped out. His habit of talking before thinking, of running his mouth and thinking about consequences later had caught up to him yet again. Hanzo had turned and started walking out of the room before Jesse could form another word.

"Do not talk to me about my relationship with my brother," he said, tossing the statement over his shoulder. The click of metal against tile wove out the door and down the halls, slowly fading away. Jesse stood alone in the training range with the sinking feeling that he had just turned a bad situation into a horrible one. 

Fucking  _fantastic_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote the majority of this after watching a dear evan hansen bootleg and not being in a very good mental state so i am very Emotional. i'm sorry if this has a different tone/is worse than other chapters
> 
> and they finally talked! and didn't try to kill each other! i know this is going really slow but i promise there will be relationship stuff soon. i don't have a definite plot or plan for this fic, but i have a general idea of what is going to happen and we have to get all of this angst out of the way first so we can have the gayness and then more angst. y'know, like how most fics go
> 
> thanks for stopping by and reading this, i hope you liked it! i'm sorry that this one took a little longer to come out (idk if it actually did but it felt like it to me) but i've been working quite hard on these and want to make them good. just, thank you for taking time to read my stuff, it really does mean a lot.


	7. Devil in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Cause I'd laugh and drink, and talk about things, and fall in love in my backyard. Now it's my own anxieties that make the conversation hard." ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOO THANK YOU FOR 500 HITS!! it amazes me that people even look at this, much less read it or comment or leave kudos. it means a lot to me, really, thank you for taking time to read my stuff. this will be the last update before they start slowing down, so here's some hanzo angst. 
> 
> description of genji's face in this chapter. it made me a little sick writing it, but then again i had a very clear image of what he looks like in this universe. tiny mention of self-harm, but i don't elaborate. just a warning. 
> 
> as always, you can find me on tumblr (alecjb.tumblr.com) and twitter (twitter.com/diiffindo). there's also another work in my trans jesse mccree series if you want to check that out!!  
> 

_Hanzo heard quiet footfalls behind him. It was morning, the sun barely peaking over the hills in the distance. Hanzo stood at the balcony, a cigarette in hand. Smoke trailed up and around him, someone had surely come to reprimand him about smoking in the castle. The soldier didn't care in the slightest. His father, a man who had hated him since the beginning, had just been buried. Hanzo, headstrong and sneaky as ever in his youth, knew he could play the grief card._

_As if he felt anything towards that son of a bitch._

_"Hanzo." The voice was rough, old, the byproduct of years of a bad smoking habit. One of the clan elders, surely. Coming to tell him he must fill his father's place. At long last he would have control over this shit-hole. Hanzo wasn't quite sure if this slight pang in his chest was from anxiety or excitement._

_"If you've come to tell me to stop smoking, you can fuck off," the archer growled, trying his best to convey his scowl over his words while not facing the man. Nevertheless, Hanzo ground the cigarette into the rail seven times, counting each one. His lips moved silently as he listed off the numbers, glad that he was not facing the elder. Ever since his father had passed, that number was all he could think about. So much of his day was wasted with that number. That fucker was still manipulating him from the afterlife._

_"Not quite. I have come with a request." The soldier archer his eyebrows and turned around to face the man. He leaned up against the railing, intrigued that the elders were already controlling him this early into his ruling. The unnamed elder simply continued with a grim expression. "There is an obstacle blocking our successes. Something that brings a great shame to the 'Shimada' name. Wayward, unruly, only your father was protecting him. We would like you to dispose of him."_

_Hanzo sighed. "Can't one of your assassins do it? Just because I was taught to kill people from a young age does not mean I wish to do your dirty work."_

_"You do not understand. This man is too well-protected, only you could get close enough to dispose of him. He will hinder our plans, destroy everything we've worked for if we let him live."_

_"Who is it, then?"_

_The man looked Hanzo straight in the eyes as he spoke._

_"Genji."_

_Although the archer had been half-expecting that name, a gasp still tried to escape. The pang in his chest intensified, building to a boiling point at the prospect of killing his kin. Hanzo stared at his feet, ignoring the way he had started tapping his heel in sevens. "Do you not think that is a bit extreme?"_

_The man's serious expression did not waver. "We have tried everything, this is the only way."_

_No. "No" was the one word repeating in his head, relentlessly being said over in over in a million different tones, articulations, and stresses. "No" was the only word that Hanzo could imagine, the only word that made sense._

_Yet, if Genji was gone, Hanzo could rule this kingdom. He would be able to carry the blame, the shame, kill his brother honorably. Let him know it had to be done. He would understand, wouldn't he?_

_No, of course he wouldn't, Hanzo thought. This was Genji they were talking about. There was no way Hanzo could do this, he had to say no..._

_No._

_"Fine."_

_As soon as the word escaped from his mouth, the elder's face slipped. It tore apart, shreds flying away in the morning breeze like pieces of paper. Underneath the skin that had disappeared was a face all too familiar to Hanzo. A patch of freckles on one cheek, un-slicked hair falling into his face, dark, wild eyes staring back at him. The air smelled like the sea, like the cherry blossoms Hanzo had known all his life. He heard a roar, one too powerful for any earthly creature to conjure. It filled his mind, taking up every space there, making him relive that sound over and over._

_But then, then there was the scream. The pleading, the begging, the sobs that choked out his name. His name, a collection of letters he had been given at birth had never sounded so horrible. So_ dirty. _It was all too much, this was all too much..._

Hanzo awoke shaking so hard that the archer was convinced he would fall out of bed.

Staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling told Hanzo he would not be able to open the compartment under his desk for a drink. No, there was no guarantee that he would have the chance to drink sake again. Not that he would be able to pour anything in this condition, anyways.

Hanzo sat up in the small cot given to him for the night. The man pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, taking a deep breath and basking in what little comfort the pressure could provide him. The unfamiliarity of the room, the stiffness of the cheap mattress, and the uncomfortable feeling of the sheets did little to still the archer's erratically beating heart. There was hardly a night that these dreams eluded him. They were always the same, always ending in the harrowing scream and the pleas to the elder Shimada. Each morning Hanzo would start shaking when he woke up in a cold sweat and took a generous swig of sake on the days that he could pour himself some without shattering anything.

A short knock on his door signaled to the archer that he needed to relax, and quickly. Tapping his fingers in sets of seven, one by one, he steadied himself, hoping the small movement would redirect some of the nervous energy. Hanzo heard the knock again, followed by the calling of his name- something that the archer certainly did not need.

"Yes?" Hanzo called out, pleased that his voice was not trembling as much as his body. 

The door slid open, revealing a giant monkey towering over where Hanzo was sitting. An involuntary short intake of breath reminded the archer that there was actually a monkey who lived here. And talked. 

"Mister Shimada," the monkey started, pushing his glasses up and holding the papers in his possession in a professional matter. "My team and I have decided that we will let you stay, on the conditions that you do not try to contact anyone off this island or give any information about our whereabouts to anyone. It that were to happen, my team and I would have no choice but to kill you."

Hanzo resisted the urge to tell the monkey that he would most likely be killed soon anyways. The soldier took a deep breath and forced what he hoped was a pleasant expression upon his face. "Excellent. I have no intentions of releasing your information, and I have no one to contact." Well, that was a lie. He had that purple-haired maniac to contact, but that matter could wait. Hanzo kept up his tapping, thankful that it helped his shakiness and quelled the worries of lying. "Will I be staying in this room? I do not mean to complain, but it is rather... small." 

The monkey- Watson, Walter, or something like that- nodded and gestured to the door. "I will give you a tour of our facilities." 

Hanzo sighed inwardly and stood up. His legs threatened to give out, a sensation that the archer wasn't used to. Watson gave him a questioning look as Hanzo grasped for something to hold onto, but remained silent. Once the archer was settled, they walked out the door, and Hanzo finally had the opportunity to get a look at the mess that was Overwatch's base. Hanzo paused before he stepped through the door. 

As the archer emerged into the hallway, horribly clinical light dug into Hanzo's head and added to the headache that was already forming. This corridor was wide, filled with nothing but empty rooms on either side. A glance in told Hanzo that each were identical to his, presumably a wing for holding cells. The thought sent a slight shiver down Hanzo's spine. Did they have prisoners? 

"These are holding cells, Watchpoint: Gibraltar used to be a rest stop during prisoner exchanges," William said, seemingly reading Hanzo's mind. The man hid his scowl by studying the ugly shade of blue every wall was painted. "Although, we don't have much use for it anymore. You're the only person who has used one in years, besides when Genji locked Jesse in one of them for a few days..." Winston trailed off, laughing quietly to himself as Hanzo's heart dropped. Genji  _was_ here after all. The confirmation made it harder to breathe, Hanzo felt like he was choking. How would he talk to the person he killed? He would have to plan it out, come up with a script, this was a moment he had been imagining for nearly twenty years...

"Mister Shimada?" The monkey had stopped at a corner that Hanzo had evidently walked past. The choking feeling worsened. "Are you okay?" 

"Yes," Hanzo answered, forcing himself to look up as he counted his steps towards Walter. "I had just gotten lost in thought."

Winston- That _was his name_ _!_ Hanzo thought- nodded and started rambling about their kitchen. 

The two walked through most of the base, Hanzo not paying attention to a single word. Winston had left him in the training range when the tour was finished, since that was where they had put his belongings. The archer picked up Storm Bow, pleased to see that it was not harmed. The small satchel he carried with him was still in tact, although it seemed to be missing the cheap watch he had discovered on the ground while finding his way to Gibraltar... odd. After slinging his measly possessions over his back, Hanzo trudged out of the training range. Ever since the mention of his brother, Hanzo could think of nothing else. He would have to talk with Genji eventually, but how? How could Hanzo, the coward that killed his brother for his own gain, try to reconcile with the one he had killed? There was no redemption for someone like him, the memories that plagued his dreams each night were evidence. Hanzo couldn't hear his name without being disgusted, without hearing the screaming, the pleading that was all too clear, even after two decades. The seven words that never stopped repeating. 

_"Hanzo, please, don't do this to yourself."_

The elder Shimada did not know what his younger brother meant until Genji's body was limp, until the lifeless eyes bore holes in Hanzo's soul. Genji hadn't been begging for his life, he had been begging for his brother to spare himself the pain he was going through, the sorrow and loathing and utter hatred he would feel for himself after the blood had been shed. Even in his dying moments, Genji was trying to protect his brother. 

Hanzo's legs had carried him to his room. A sticky-note reading "Hanzo Shimada" was posted where a nametag would be. A close look to the surrounding dormitories told him that everyone else had a very official-looking plaque. They were no in specific order, it seemed as if each person had chosen their room.  _Jesse McCree, Fareeha Amari, Hana Song, Lúcio Corriea dos Santos_ (Hanzo couldn't help but be amused at the length of the name),  _Angela Zimmer, Reinhardt Wilhelm..._

_Genji Shimada._

The name, there, in writing, was enough to make Hanzo sick. His brother's door stood there, opened slightly with soft music airing out. Hanzo could knock on the door, and there would be his brother, in whatever flesh that was left of him. He would stand there, and Hanzo would see the man he once killed. The man that had driven Hanzo to ruin both of their lives. 

It was all too much. 

Hanzo rushed back to his room, counting his steps between the tiles and praying to whatever deity there may be that Genji did not see him. 

* * *

 

As much as Hanzo hated to admit it, that damn cowboy had put him in front of this door. That man, who was just a few doors down, had decided to train at the same time as Hanzo. The  _nerve_ he had, his intentions were obvious from the moment he first spoke. The unmistakable look of curiosity and nosiness showed, eyes that sparkled like that did not have good intentions. Hanzo was all too glad that he would not be staying here permanently, for he doubted he could go very long without maiming Jesse McCree.

Yet, as he scolded the man for thinking he knew  _anything_ about him and Genji, the archer found himself walking towards his brother's room. One had had avoided for weeks, paced in front of and cursed at for the short duration of his stay. It was only a door, a plate of sliding glass separating two rooms, why was it so frightening? The urge to clear the door emerged after the twenty-something pace, yet the archer pushed it down. He wouldn't let that itch in his mind ruin this as well.

Hanzo had been meaning to talk to his brother since he had arrived at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Though every time he heard the sharp clicks of metal prosthetics turning a corner, the archer ran as far away as he could. He was accustomed to the sound, it accompanied him everywhere he traveled. Hanzo had tried to knock on his brother's door a few times, yet it loomed there, foreboding and wrong. It needed to be fixed- cleared- but Hanzo refused to give in to it. Of course, this delayed him from being able to actually _knock_ on the door for a few weeks. Finally, after pushing through barrier after barrier, and dealing with the ignorant cowboy who thought he knew Hanzo, the archer knocked on the door.

He regretted the decision immediately. The script that Hanzo had devised disappeared from his memory as his knuckles contacted the glass. 

The archer's hand had hardly left the door before it slid open, revealing a metal something with an all too-human face. It was one that Hanzo recognized.

But, really, all that Hanzo recognized were the eyes.

Thick scars ran over his brother's nose and eyebrows, cutting through all the flesh that was left there. Raised and red, they ran over his face like snakes, thicker and more abundant near his eyes, forehead, and nose. Small, white marks slashed into the skin around his mouth, as if they were from shaving. With a pang of something between nostalgia and sadness, Hanzo recognized one directly underneath his mouth from when Genji had ran into a statue. The skin around his nose was stretched horribly in opposite directions, the nose itself swerving haphazardly to the left. Directly underneath his right eye lay a chunk of metal made to look like skin. The artificial skin would have gone unnoticed if Hanzo wasn't searching for a distinct patch of freckles. The elder Shimada was thankful that he hadn't eaten, or his body might have betrayed him and spilled its stomach's contents over the man standing in front of him.

"Hey." Hanzo spoke after a silence that stretched fortnights, unaware that he was able to speak at all. The man that used to be his brother blinked, putting a hand over his mouth in a mannerism all too familiar to the archer.

"Hanzo, I'm sorry, I thought you were Jesse-" The younder Shimada scrambled back into his room, face turned and searching for what Hanzo assumed to be a faceplate.

"I... I did this to you?"

Genji turned to the man standing in the doorway, words failing him. The sight his broken face looking back at him with complete sorrow sent daggers into the archer's heart. It had become noticeably more difficult to breathe. All Hanzo could see were the scars, the broken, artificial body he had given his brother. He did not realize he was shaking until the younger took his hands. The metal felt unnatural, wrong, it took everything for Hanzo not to pull away. This was not the brother he knew. This was the brother he had created, the brother he had killed.

The cyborg had noticed that Hanzo made no attempt to move and walked up to him, a sad look discernible underneath the scarring. Every expression just dug the knife in Hanzo's chest deeper, every word threatened to make Hanzo flee. Yet, when Genji finally spoke, it was the same voice Hanzo remembered. Soft, sweet, each word carefully thought-out and articulated. The one that spoke words that Hanzo would never be able to forget. The archer was ready to turn away, ready to leave and let his brother be, let him hate him, but Genji met his gaze. 

"Dragons are mysterious," Genji said, gently squeezing Hanzo's hands. The look in his eyes was comforting, bringing back memories of Genji caring for Hanzo's injuries- self inflicted or otherwise. Those eyes were the only thing keeping Hanzo from running far, far away from the thing he had forced his brother to become. "Even if we can control them, they had a mind of their own. They may have torn me into pieces, yet I am still alive, am I not? They are ruthless creatures, they would not leave someone alive unless they had other intentions."

"What are you trying to say?" Hanzo felt his voice give out as he finished the sentence. Tears that the archer did not know were there started to fall down his cheeks. A metal hand reached up and brushed them away. To Hanzo's surprise, they weren't as rough as he expected.

"What I'm trying to say is that even if you did try to kill me, you did not succeed. Our dragons are connected to our life forces- our souls, if we have any- and I truly believe that you or your dragons would sincerely want to kill their brethren."

Genji then smiled, sadly, yet it was still a smile. His eyes crinkled in the corners, still perceivable underneath the scars. The white line underneath his mouth moved with his skin in the unmistakable way that Hanzo had known for years. The archer longed to gather his brother in his arms, tell him how sorry he was, but it would not be appropriate. The teachings of the Shimada clan still rang loud in his mind, ones that Hanzo wasn't quite sure if he wanted to keep or forget.

"I am so sorry," Hanzo whispered, unable to speak any more than those four words without completely breaking down. When Genji wrapped a cold arm around him was when a sob escaped Hanzo. The elder wrapped his brother in both arms, digging his head into the familiar soft hair that framed his face on the days Genji did not slick it up. Hanzo was not quite sure how many times he said the word "sorry", but each one was met with a soft shushing from the other. Only one person in the world would be able to see Hanzo like this, the one person who had came back from the dead.

The one person who had somehow forgiven Hanzo for his sins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE CHAPTER BEFORE IT WAS FINISHED AND FORGOT TO COPY MY NOTES I LOVE MY LIFE!! but anyways. i'm so excited to develop hanzo's character! i usually write these chapters from start to finish, but i wrote the ending first before i realized it fit better as an ending, so i shaped this whole chapter around that. stuff to work on my writing style and craft, y'know? this was a fun one. i promise jesse and han will have more interaction together next chapter, i just gotta set up stuff. and i really like these focus chapters
> 
> lil easter egg: the word "no" is written seven times in the dream/flashback thing. my "magic number" (idk what to call it) is seven, so i gave it to hanzo. he has most of my compulsions, tbh. including the thing with doors, but i made some stuff up bc i have /something/ with doors. i don't need to clear them there's just something that i can't explain about them?? idk so he got that but more intense. i channel my problems onto my boy hanzo i'm not sorry
> 
> and since i usually add something off-topic/about my life in these: i was playing ow and deathmatch is really fun?? i'm a support main (i can play tracer, sombra, and zarya pretty well but i have the most hours logged on support) so i end up giving people a bunch of assists :(( i'm very used to doing initial damage, healing, and then running for my life and hoping someone kills them. so i get 20 assists and 3 kills... ALSO i noticed hanzo has a "step into the dojo" voice line, which i find very funny so that will be put in this fic at some point. and goddamn i hate the junkrat buff i have gotten killed by his concussion mines so many times today


	8. Skyfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Let the sky fall. When it crumbles, we will stand tall, face it all together." ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hanzo has a panic attack and there's a lotta detail, it's a major part of the chapter and jesse and hanzo bond, but you can skip it. nothing /important/ happens, but there's BONDING, BITCHES. this was a fun one
> 
> find me on tumblr (alecjb.tumblr.com) and twitter (twitter.com/diiffindo) and check out my other shit if you want <3 i'm also looking for a beta reader so if you want to see my shit before it comes out and give me feedback email me at alecjbi@gmail.com. cool? cool. 
> 
> (i named this chapter "skyfall" bc they're bonding...... and james bond............... i'm so sorry)

To Hanzo's horror, the damn cowboy was in the training range when he arrived.

Genji had told him about the cowboy- McCree was his name. He had insisted that he was a good guy, even though he couldn't keep his mouth shut. (Hanzo found the trait insufferable.) Hanzo had even noticed a picture in what he assumed was the conference room (he had no need to go in there, Hanzo had simply been wandering one day) of the two. They looked young, and Genji had his mask off, something that was very atypical of him. (Although, Genji had told him that he had broken in multiple times in an attempt to make his older brother laugh. Instead, Hanzo was perturbed that he could break it by simply throwing it.) McCree looked just about the same as he did now, wearing an obnoxious belt buckle and cowboy hat, yet with a few less scars and wrinkles. They were smiling, and Hanzo noticed that Genji's eyes crinkled in the picture the same way they did now. 

It only made Hanzo's heart sink at the realization that he had missed so much time of his brother's life. 

Genji gave him the picture the second day that his elder brother showed up at his door. 

That had become a tradition in the weeks that had passed since Hanzo first properly spoke to his brother. Genji had suggested it, saying that it would help them catch up. Hanzo accepted, albeit begrudgingly. Memories of years spent without his brother and the fact that he would leave soon without him spilled into their meetings. Neither of the brothers acknowledged it, but it was there, an attempted murder and nearly twenty years of neglect. The screams of that night rang ever so clearly every time Hanzo saw the scars left by a monster.

Yet, Hanzo would not let Genji don his mask while he was in his company. He needed this reminder, of how much he had failed himself, the clan... everyone.

"Fine," Genji had said one night, a faint whooshing noise signifying that his faceplate was being taken off. "But now you have to get me my favorite meal from that Rikimaru on the corner. The 'spicy t-"

"-tastiest ramen in the world' with that horrid Ramune soda," Hanzo said, nearly smiling at the wide-eyed Genji, who was almost giddy with the mention of a certain soda. "I suppose it is a deal."

Genji smiled, and Hanzo felt a somewhat pleasant pang in his heart. "Ramune is great! I cannot find it anywhere here."

Hanzo shrugged, taking a seat on a chair and looking around Genji's room. He had not gotten the chance to see it the first time he had been here. It was small and bare, not unlike Hanzo's. Small trinkets decorated a dresser to Hanzo's left; an ink well, feather quill, expensive-looking parchment, a fragile wooden box engraved with dragons... and a photo of Genji and Hanzo in their youth. Hanzo smiled sadly.

"Well, we might just have to travel to Hanamura once all of this is done and find some." Hanzo paused, looking back at Genji. "Are you sure about this? I do not think that a meal is enough payment for-"

Genji cut him off with the wave of a hand. "I have not seen you for nearly two decades. All I wish for is a simple meal." Genji flopped down on the bed, a habit carried over from his teenage years. There was a slight, mischevious glimmer in his eye. "Although, perhaps, in the meantime, you could do a bit more."

Hanzo quirked up an eyebrow. "Such as?"

And that was how the archer, assasin, and king ended up staring at the back of a very annoying cowboy's head.

Hanzo walked quietly behind McCree, the sound of his prosthetics hidden by the gunshot echoing in the large room. He wore no hat, and, thank god, no obnoxious belt. He was dressed in a simple flannel and jeans, and Hanzo prayed a quick thanks to anyone who might be listening. He wasn't sure if he could handle seeing him in that ridiculous cowboy getup.

Hanzo stopped a good distance behind the gunslinger. The archer had noticed that the targets changed every week- an observation made when an unsuspecting Hanzo was nearly rammed by a training bot into a wall. This week's was robotic birds flying around the training range at high-speed. McCree managed not to miss a single one. Hanzo let out a small grunt of approval, and the cowboy seemed to notice, turning around and face lighting up as he saw the archer. 

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, southern drawl very apparent and jarring to Hanzo. "The archer shows up again."

Hanzo crossed his arms, attempting to look bigger next to a man who had at least five inches on him. "I am only here because Genji wished me to make connections with the people here. I figured... you're the only other person here that I have had talked to."

"Aw, y'know y' could never stay away!" McCree said, beaming and leaning on the table next to him. After a moment, his smile fell and gazed curiously at the man in front of him. "Wait... y' talked to Genji?"

Hanzo tapped his finger on his other hand behind his back. It was all keeping him from walking out of the room and from this man. "Yes. I... I thought about our conversation," Hanzo almost visibly cringed at the words, "and it had been too long avoiding my brother. I see him nearly every day, trying to catch up on twenty years of lost time."

McCree nodded, seriousness creeping in on a cheery exterior. "Y'know, I'm mighty proud of ya. That can be a hard conversation." Hanzo simply nodded. "Say... if y' ever need to talk, to get away from all those memories, come find me. Y' can just ask Athena where I am. Anytime, anywhere."

Hanzo cocked his head to the side, intruiged by McCree's sudden interest in him. "Anytime?"

The smile returned, filling up Hanzo's mind. It was quite a nice smile for someone so annoying. "Anytime, sugar." The pet name dug into Hanzo's mind. No one besides Genji had given him a term of endearment. The archer felt panic start to bubble within his chest and pushed it down. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven..._

"It is 'Shimada'."

McCree chuckled. "Okay, fine. Anytime, _Shimada_ ," he said, accentuating Hanzo's name in a playful matter. "You can see me anytime." The easy smile became slightly forced. "Even in the middle of the  night... I'm sure there's times when y' can't sleep." 

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven..._

"Okay."

"Come see me sometime, alright?"

"Okay."

Hanzo turned towards the door, fully intending not to see the cowboy again.

* * *

A few days later, Hanzo Shimada stood outside of Jesse's door, shaking so hard that he could hardly stand.

When Jesse had told Hanzo he could see him, he had not expected for the archer to be knocking on his door at three AM. When he showed up in the training range, Jesse couldn't hide his curiosity. The resentment that he held towards Hanzo slowly fizzled in their short conversation. After seeing Genji cry for days on end over Hanzo, Jesse came to realize that Hanzo must've went through something similar. Why else would he be staying in the same building as his brother, talking to him every day? The anger slowly dissipated, leaving some sort of... respect? Jesse wasn't sure, but at least he could bare being in the same room as the man.

Plus, he wouldn't mind seeing him at dinner once and awhile.

Nevertheless, from what Jesse could see, Hanzo was not interested in seeing him anytime soon. The man was honorable, as Genji had mentioned, and had given Jesse a twisted apology, but that was all that the cowboy had seen him. On the nights that Jesse rocked back and forth from neverending nightmares, the last person he expected to see was Hanzo.

As the door slid open, Jesse was greeted with a man who was literally shaking out of his boots. No part of his body stood still, his legs wobbling widly beneath him, fingers tapping along. To put it lightly would be to say he looked like death. The man that was always so uptight, so controlled, was being controlled by powers far beyond his reach.

Jesse immediately recognized the panic attack and stepped out of the way to allow his guest in.

The memories keeping Jesse up were long forgotten as he went to pour Hanzo a glass of water. The archer sat on his bed, still shaking violently. Jesse, with the glass in hand, sat next to him, concern painted all over his expression.

"Shimada..." he whispered, knowing that Hanzo wished not to be called by his first name. Jesse didn't dare to raise his voice in the fear that he would leave in this state. "What's wrong?"

Hanzo stared at the floor, trying desperately to speak. "I-I-I ha-had, I had. I had, I had, I had..." He repeated the two words over and over, unable to move on. It was as if he were a literal broken record. Jesse got more concerned with every word. "I had... I had a ni-a night- I had a nig- _shit!_ I had, I had a n-night- _goddamn_ _it!_ A nightmare. I had a nightmare. I had, I had a nightmare."

Jesse looked at the archer as he trembled, unable to form a sentence. The cowboy wasn't aware someone so controlled could be so utterly helpless.

"Okay..." Jesse said, considering putting a hand on Hanzo's back. "Since you can't talk, how about I ask you yes or no questions and you answer by movin' your head? Does that work?"

Hanzo nodded, his head jerking in odd directions as he did so. Jesse frowned.

"Has this happened before?" _Yes._

"Has this specific attack been happenin' for awhile?" _Yes._

"Is that why you came and saw me?" _Yes._

"Is there anythin' I can do?" _No._

"You want water?"

"I-I ca-I can-" Hanzo tried to speak, but Jesse shushed him. The archer finally looked up, tears rolling down his cheeks, eyes red and puffy. Jesse now realized that he was crying, sobs cutting off the words he tried to speak. Hanzo took a shaky hand and attempted to lift up one of Jesse's pillows. After lifting it a few inches, Hanzo's had spasmed and he dropped it.

"Hold on," Jesse muttered, ignoring the eyes of a very broken man on him. He saw himself, saw Genji in his place. Broken, shaking beyond being stilled. The lowest someone could go.

Jesse felt a sharp pain in his heart at the thought.

The cowboy found a washcloth and ran it under cold water, wringing it out so it did not drip. He then walked back to Hanzo, still shaking and crying, and lifted his head up. The archer winced at the movement, pulling away slightly but let himself be touched. Jesse ran the washcloth over Hanzo's face, wiping away tears old and new. Hanzo still shook in his grasp, but eventually the tears stopped coming. The washcloth was soothing, a different feeling from the heat of sobs and anxiety. Jesse wanted to hold Hanzo until he stopped shaking, but thought against it. Hanzo didn't feel that way, and obviously didn't want to be touched-

Wait. Jesse didn't feel that way either. The cowboy wasn't sure why his mind went there. There was absolutely nothing romantic about his feelings for Hanzo. Only respect, pity, and and a little bit of fear.

Yet, there was something a Hanzo. Not quite attraction, but there was something. A mix between hatred and fondness, not quite a friend or foe. Jesse was hardwired to hear the name "Hanzo" and have the urge to kill the son of a bitch. It had been that way for nearly twenty years. Yet, after meeting the man, just the look in the archer's eyes told Jesse that he was filled with regret. Self-hatred. Pain.

Jesse could relate to the feeling.

So, as Jesse watched the man sit on his bed in the dim light, shaking as if he were going to explode, he felt something. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it was something.

* * *

The nightmares had only gotten worse in the time since Hanzo saw Genji.

At first, they were no worse. Waking up at his regular time, shaking but able to control it with a drink or some breakfast. The archer could go on with his day, only thinking about his anxiety-filled nightmares when he tried to laid his head upon his pillow. As the weeks went on, the dreams got more graphic. He could see himself killing Genji from every possible angle, the screams louder and clearer that it was that faithful day. Often, Hanzo woke up with tears in his eyes, unable to lift his head until he calmed down.

This night was hell. While the pleas that crushed Hanzo's sanity ceased after he gained consciousness, he could still hear them. The voice of his brother, repeating himself relentlessly, screaming without an end. When Hanzo lifted his hands to his ears, they were covered with blood. Hanzo repressed a scream and shut his eyes tight. The screams amplified everything around him, everything was so loud... He could hear each tick of the clock, the whir of his fan, creak of the springs in his bed. Blood rushed in his ears. Every sound was fighting to be louder, increasing in volume until Hanzo was sure that his ears were bleeding. 

_IdeservethisIdeservethisIdidthisyou'recrazyyou'reokayyou'reinsaneyoudidthistyourself_

Hanzo attempted to take a deep breath, choking on his spit and tears instead. He brought his legs up to his chest, barely able to wrap his arms around them from trembling. The ear-splitting ticks from the clock told him that it was around three AM. No one would be awake, and he wasn't about to wake up Overwatch's medic for a simple panic attack.

_Youdon'tdeservetobehelpedyoukilledhimyou'redyingyou'redyingthisistheendgodyou'resuchawaste_

The archer tried to count. When a few sets of sevens didn't work, he went on to more, tapping away and counting sevens in his head without stopping. When that didn't work, the archer whispered to himself, cringing at how strained his voice sounded. 

"One, two- one, one- one, two th-three, one, one two, one t-one two..." the soldier whispered.

_Youcan'teventalkwithoutfuckingupyoudeservethisyoudeservethisnothingsoundsrightbutyoudidthistoyourselfyoudidthisyoudeservethis_

Based on the ticks that had seemingly fought their way to the forefront of the noise in Hanzo's mind, it took him six minutes to get through one set of seven. Nothing felt _right_ , his hands didn't feel right, he didn't feel like he was there, but everything was so loud and  _there_ , everything was in front of him and he wasn't there and was at the same time...

Hanzo took another deep breath, a calming technique that the archer didn't know why he even tried. He was _dying_ , he had to be, no one was supposed to feel like this. 

_Exceptyou._

"No," Hanzo whispered, fighting back the thoughts that would bring on another bout of anxiety, regret, and hatred. Another memory, another scream, another sound he couldn't handle. It was all too much...

_Youdeservethis._

He needed to find someone.

_Youdon'tdeservetobehelped_

There was the medic? Angela or something?

_Shewouldn'thelpyouyoukilledherpatient_

Genji. He could see Genji.

_Whywouldhewanttoseeyouhehatesyouyoukilledhimhethinksyou'reawasteofapersonandwillkillyouthenextchancehegets_

There was no one else, no one Hanzo could go to, there was no one who would care-

McCree.

The goddamn cowboy had given the offer to see him when he couldn't sleep. Though McCree had specifically said "anytime", Hanzo regretted every step he took towards his door. He walked in short strides, slowly- something quite unusual for him. The ground felt too cold, too intrusive, his clothes were too itchy and warm and stuck to his body and touching him. He didn't want anything to touch him, anything to see him, he should just turn back now...

Hanzo took another slow step towards the door, legs threatening to give out. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven._

Hanzo stepped between the seams in the tiles, counting his steps. His prosthetics were too loud on the floor, the archer was sure he would disturb someone. Someone would get mad, someone would see him like this.

What would it matter, though? Hanzo almost laughed. He was dying, what was there to lose?

The archer arrived at a door. It was closed, McCree was probably asleep, and it took everything within Hanzo not to walk away.  _What is there to lose?_

Hanzo knocked on the door seven times. 

Hanzo was greeted with a tired-looking cowboy. Not the tired of being roused from a good night's sleep, but the tired from not falling unconscious for several hours. Concern spread all over his face, greeting Hanzo with furrowed eyebrows, concerned eyes, and lips molded into a tight line. Hanzo felt himself move into the room and sit on the bed. He was starting to float, starting not to be there, but he wouldn't let himself. He deserved to suffer. Why would he let himself dissociate and escape the punishment he had been given?

He felt McCree's eyes on him. They were brown, soft, loving for even a man like him. How could anyone love  _him?_ They added to the list of things drilling into Hanzo's mind, chipping away at walls and breaking down the sanity that he had left. His voice came gentle, like he was talking to a frightened cat. Hanzo groaned inwardly at the stupidity of his decision. 

"Shimada..." McCree's voice trailed off at the end, the name sounding foreign on his tongue. Of course, he was American, why hadn't Hanzo told him to refer to him by his first name? God, he was so  _stu-_

"What's wrong?"

There it was. The question as to why Hanzo was currently dying, why Hanzo was sitting in the room of a man he despised in his final moments. Something over a silly nightmare, a panic attack turned heart attack turned something else. A dream. Hanzo was dying because of a dream. How  _appropriate_.

The archer tried to speak, words coming out broken and repeated. He couldn't get the goddamn words out, nothing sounded right, he had to make it right. He had to make it all right, nothing was right, he had to fix it. He  _had_ to. Hanzo looked down at his hands and saw that they were still shaking, still spasming and trembling without fail. It was a mistake to see McCree in this state, no one had seen him like this besides Genji. He wasn't like this, Hanzo Shimada was strong. A warrior. A king. Not a thirty-something year-old man dying because of a dream. 

Some time passed. Hanzo wasn't quite sure what was real or not at this point. The part of his mind holding him back from slipping into the floaty-feeling had broken down, and Hanzo couldn't do it anymore. He stared at the ceiling, feeling his body shake, all the panic still there. But he wasn't there. He felt something cold on his face, slightly scratchy, and attempted to pull away. He did not move much, and the feeling slid across his entire face. It was calming, actually, and Hanzo felt his burning lungs start to cool down, tears starting to slow down. It was almost pleasant, and Hanzo let himself slip away even more. Floating into oblivion, nothing could hurt him here. He could get a break he didn't deserve, one he would have to punish himself before. It didn't matter now, he had an escape, even if it was only for now.

When Hanzo realized he was in his body again, there was something heavy on top of him. As he rolled over, he was greeted with an unfamiliar face. Hanzo reached for the bow that lay at the foot of his bed, heart sinking when it wasn't there-

Oh, right. 

Hanzo lowered himself back into a laying position, trying not to disturb the man sleeping beside him. McCree lay with his face pressed against his hand on the pillow, hair falling haphazardly over his face. His lips were parted slightly. Hanzo realized that he looked peaceful. That was the cliche, everyone looked peaceful in their sleep. But McCree really did. 

The hatred that lay for the cowboy seemed to have dissipated. Hanzo did not necessarily  _hate_ him, he realized, but the cowboy was sure to still be utterly annoying. McCree was there for him last night, somehow. Hanzo had to respect that. There wasn't hatred there for him, but not friendship. A healthy middle, a place where Hanzo could leave without attachments to anyone besides his brother. A middle ground, where he could meet McCree halfway. He wouldn't really mind seeing him in the training range, though. 

McCree's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and Hanzo laid back down quickly. The last thing he needed to do was cause an inconvenience, he was in the cowboy's bed-

Wait. Why was he in the cowboy's bed?

Despite his better judgement, Hanzo lifted the covers and looked down at himself. Shirt, check. Underwear, check. He felt drained, but not in  _that_ way, right? McCree wouldn't do that, Hanzo was such an idiot to think that-

"Hanzo?" a voice to Hanzo's left said. Hanzo quickly dropped the covers and turned to see a sleepy-looking cowboy. His eyes were dull from sleep, hair not yet brushed out of his face, but McCree's expression lightened as he saw Hanzo. He sat up, pulling the covers up over his shoulders. Hanzo groaned inwardly.

"I told you, it's 'Shimada'," Hanzo growled, old habits taking hold of him, despite his effort to be in the middle with McCree. "And put the covers down, I'm cold."

"Sorry, sugar," Jesse said, smirking at the archer next to him and letting the blankets drop from his grasp. "How'd y' sleep?"

"Fine?" Hanzo said, slightly confused at the gunslinger's decision to make small talk. "I came into your room at the middle of the night, I thought I was  _dying_ , and you're asking me how I slept?"

"Well, when y' put it that way..." McCree said, smiling awkwardly and looking behind Hanzo. "Y' had a rough night. Jus' wanted to make sure that y' got a good night's sleep."

"That's very kind of you," Hanzo answered, picking every word carefully. God, this was more awkward than the mornings after his one night stands. 

"Do y' mind me askin' what happened?" McCree said quietly after a stretch of silence. He looked up at Hanzo shyly, barely daring to make eye contact. He was uncomfortable, too.

"I had a nightmare, and the worst panic attack I've experienced," Hanzo said, silently cursing himself at the display of weakness. "I... I did not want to see you, but I thought I was dying, and you had offered..." Hanzo left the sentence hang in the air, and luckily McCree picked up the slack. 

"I meant it, I really did," he answered, picking at the threading in his comforter. "I don't want y' goin' through that kinda stuff alone. I know it ain't fun."

"That, Jesse McCree, is the biggest understatement I have heard in my life."

McCree looked up at Hanzo, a smile lighting up his face. Oh god, what did he do, did he- "Did... did you just make a joke?"

Hanzo bit on his lip to refrain from smiling. "I am afraid you misheard me, McCree. Perhaps that cowboy hat that's always hanging over your ears has impaired your hearing."

McCree was really smiling now, teeth joining the mix. It was nearly contagious. "If anythin', Genji tells too many bad jokes and my sense of humor is impaired."

The archer couldn't take it. He let himself smile, relishing in the way that McCree's eyes lit up when he saw it. "Genji tells bad jokes?"

The cowboy wolf-whisted, looking at Hanzo and laughing slightly. "Looks like y' have a little catchin' up to do," he said, motioning to the door. Go see 'im and tell me how it went."

Hanzo nodded, straightening his face but letting it erupt into a full smile as he turned towards the door. He left it open, turning back to see McCree sitting in the middle of his bed, absolutely beaming. It was... nice. 

* * *

A few hours later, a man with a vibrant blue tattoo showed up in front of Jesse's door. He grinned, unable to help himself at the look of utter disappointment and hilarity on Hanzo's face. 

"'Why did Jesse McCree get held back in the first grade?'" Hanzo asked, repeating the question that Genji had told him. Jesse tilted his head as to say "tell me", and Hanzo smiled. From what Jesse knew, it was rare, and he was glad to have drawn it out. Hanzo looked him dead in the eyes, his eyes serious but mouth unable to control its smile.

"'He couldn't tell the time.'"

"GENJI!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! thank you for reading! i'm sorry this chapter took a while, i've obviously been out and about here, since i posted two new works since this came out. i've been obsessed with be more chill lately and had those ideas and had to write them. (check out "jeremy in the bathroom" and "michael and jeremy get it on" if you want! or listen to bmc, it's real good) but anyways. those ones i can write pretty quick, i wrote both of those in about a day each. i take a lot more time on this and the trans jesse series, write more, these chapters usually take me a week or more. i promise i'm working on them, just takes me a little longer <3 thanks for sticking around
> 
> hanzo's panic attack dialogue is based off how i speak sometimes. i repeat stuff bc it just doesn't sound right, i always have that feeling but repress it when i'm normally talking, and i thought that trait should come out for hanzo when he's panicking and not in control. and the washcloth is v soothing, it helps me when i'm freaking out


	9. Boston (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I think I'll go to Boston, I think that I was tired-" ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this chapter took over a month to get out :(( i've been insanely busy and they mean it when they say not to have more than one multiple chapter fics at a time. (i have 4 lmao) as an apology, here's almost 5k words, some angst and mild gore! 
> 
> this time i swear it'll take me less than a month to get upcoming chapters out!! imma publish a chapter of emdw after this (i'm halfway done with it) and once i'm done with that, i'll work on this again! anyways, thank you so much for reading and sticking around. i have a bunch of other works for you to check out if you find yourself wanting to read more by me <3
> 
> tumblr: alecjb.tumblr.com (i'm on tumblr more often, come say hi!!)  
> twitter: twitter.com/diiffindo

No one really knew when, but at some point in time, Hanzo started showing up at dinner.

At first, everyone was surprised to see him, their meal was covered in heavy silence. Halfway through his meal one particular night, Hanzo muttered "fuck it" and left the table, his footsteps echoing towards the kitchen. Jesse, who was sitting next to him, looked up with concern evident on his face. He started to push his chair out and stand up as Hanzo reentered the "dining" room, holding an expensive-looking bottle. Eight pairs of confused eyes looked back at him.

"Sake," he explained, setting the cups clutched between his arm and torso on the table with an awkward movement. It was hardly a dining table, simple a folding table in the back of the common room, but it worked. "No one is talking, and it's obviously because of me-"

"Now, Shimada..." Jesse said, leaning towards the archer with pitiful eyes, but Hanzo made no implication that he saw.

"No, I have been distant for weeks. It seems that I will have to stay here for quite some time, so I might as well get to know you over drinks." He poured the clear liquid into the glasses on the table, biting his lip as he focused. Jesse thought it was endearing, yet he would never admit it. After handing the glasses to everyone, he poured himself a glass- much more than everyone else had gotten- and took his place next to Jesse.

"Don't drink it too fast," Genji warned, looking towards Fareeha who had taken a large swig. Angela looked towards her with something between disgust and fear. "It will not agree with you tomorrow."

Hanzo frowned behind his cup. "It does not feel like you are drinking much. But you're going to get a nasty hangover if you drink it at that rate," the archer said as Fareeha poured herself another glass.

"My girlfriend's the best doctor in the world." Angela blushed by her side, putting a hand over her face. "She'll fix me if I get alcohol poisoning." 

"You know, Fareeha, it's dangerous to live by that mentality," Genji said, trying to hide his smile while not wearing plate that often disguised his mouth.

"Tell that to me again when you stop relying on your faceplates to avoid head injuries," she deadpanned, leaning back in her chair.

Hanzo leaned over to Jesse, putting his mouth uncomfortably close to his ear. The cowboy realized it was most likely not, yet the feeling of his breath on his ear did not feel legal. Jesse pushed the though aside.

"Is she... always this difficult?" Hanzo asked, obvious concern filling his voice. Jesse frowned.

"Yep, sugar," he said. He knew he was taking a risk with the petname, but Hanzo seemed to deal with it. "Don't take it personally. She's a bit of a spitfire, that one."

Jesse could sense Hanzo tense next to him. His chest started to fill with dread, what did he say? Did he do something wro-

"What... what is a spitfire?" Hanzo asked, his voice full of curiosity and innocence. 

The small smile placed on Jesse's lips spread into something much larger. The more he glanced at the man sitting next to him, the more he found himself starting to laugh, and the cowboy soon found himself crying from laughter as the archer scowled at him.

Though threatening to never come to dinner with Jesse again, the elusive archer slowly settled into the Overwatch agent's lives. The once mysterious man who they had been tracking down for months became not so mysterious, as if overnight. Two sets of metal feet could be heard wandering the corridors at night, laughs and the bangs of bullets and arrows striking targets echoed from the training range. 

From an outsider's view, it might have looked normal. Possibly even familial. Yet, that could not be farther from the truth.

Overwatch was useless. Less than useless, at that. They were a waste of manpower, space, and the little energy the backup generators still held. Though dinners together resembled something put together, every other hour of the day was complete and utter hell.

One day, Genji malfunctoned. Something about his kidneys not working, the two artificial ones that Angela had slaved over while her patient bled out years before. The doctor found herself elbow deep within Genji's body, yelling at Fareeha to get something even remotely close to a dialysis machine. This event prompted the elder Shimada to not leave Genji's side for a week, eating and drinking only when he passed out.

"I've already had to save one of your lives," Angela said a few days into the ordeal. Prominent bags lay under her lives, and her accent thickened- a telltale characteristic of stress. "I don't need the pair."

A day could not pass without a fight arising somewhere within the halls of Watchpoint: Gibraltar. The yelling matches ranged from a certain engineer scolding someone for "messing with his turrets" when no one had walked anywhere near the roof, to when Jesse had accidentally stepped on one of Hana's controllers. Hanzo and Genji were notably absent during these times. Jesse noted that the archer's eyes were a bit puffier than usual once the yelling died down.

"He's not good with loud noises," Genji had explained when confronted about it. "Or arguments. He never really has been."

Jesse furrowed his eyebrows, staring as Genji looked anywhere but his direction. "Then... how does he fight?"

Genji sighed, placing a hand behind his head and looking up at the cowboy. "Unless the clan made him, he doesn't. Hanzo will only ever bring up his bow when he's training..." Genji's voice trailed off, tapping his foot quietly. The only sound in the hall was the sound of metal upon tile and the slight hum of the cyborg breathing beneath his faceplate. 

"Or when he's scared," Genji said finally.

Jesse's mind flashed back to every moment in the training range, every time the archer's face contorted after a shot, every time he shot the cowboy a scalding look when Jesse simply asked if he was okay. So, he chose to be quieter, but nothing could bring the elusive archer out of his shell anymore than he already was.

Since Hanzo started attending dinners and getting closer to Jesse, he only seemed farther away. The action only made Jesse want to leave the watchpoint more, as it reminded him of memories long passed and a family he would never see again. After confronting Hanzo about this particular issue one evening, the archer had been avoiding Jesse since. Every time the two met in the hallway produced a deep scowl from one, and a confused expression from the other. Hanzo was absent from meals, from the two's meetings at the training range every night. The man Jesse had seen had disappeared with no warning at all.

After a particular moment when the two brothers became fed up with each other, Winston called each resident of the watchpoint to a meeting.

"Can't wait for Winston t' give us a damn lecture on our behavior," Jesse muttered to no one in particular as he entered the conference room. As the cowboy plopped into his regular seat, Hanzo strolled in, immediately lowering his gaze and sitting the farthest away from Jesse that he could. Stolen glances towards the archer were left unreturned, unrequited. Something resembling a friendship, an acquaintanceship, was left in the dust.

Jesse would just have to fix that.

Just as Jesse pushed out his chair and made a move to sit next to Hanzo, Winston entered the room and a collective sigh travelled among its inhabitants. Jesse sat down, groaning as he hit the chair. Seemingly unaware to the mood shift, Winston pawed his way to his regular place at the head of the table.

"I called this meeting due to recent events," the scientist said, straightening his glasses out of habit. Jesse restrained a groan and a glance towards Hanzo or Genji, wanting nothing but to go sleep through the scolding. "That is why," he continued, "I have chosen to tell you about our upcoming mission now." 

Winston smiled as ten pairs of eyes shot towards him, nervous and excited alike. Lúcio wiggled in his chair, a smile spreading on his face. Angela sighed dramatically, yet Jesse could sense a small smile hidden behind her hand. The cowboy was nearly ready to jump out of his seat and hug Winston, more than ready to get away from this hellhole and all the memories it contained. Jesse practically shook at the thought of using Peacekeeper outside the training range. 

"Recent monitoring from Athena has given us some compromising information about Talon- for both them and us," Winston said, swiping steadily on holovid until a long list of names appeared in front of the Overwatch agents. At a quick glance, Jesse was able to pick out a few familiar names, his heart skipping a beat. Liao, Gabrielle, Ana, Olivia... 

"Wait." Jesse straightened up, leaning closer to the hologram. "These are all the old agents. They're all either dead or missin'... we all know Commander Amari is dead an' gone," he said, shooting an apologetic glance to Fareeha who merely shrugged.

Winston opened his mouth right as Hanzo spoke, closing it awkwardly as the archer explained. "It means that Talon somehow received this information. If they have an informant, or a way to get this information, there's no knowing how much more intel they could have access to," he said, looking everywhere but Jesse. His voice had returned to the cold, formal tone that only a powerful man could possess. The side of Hanzo Shimada that Jesse McCree had tried to pull out was sealed up once again with lock and key, and was replaced with an assassin and leader of a criminal empire. 

"Exactly," Winston confirmed. "We don't know how they came upon this information- whether it be from public records or inside Overwatch itself- but we need to investigate. Athena can only reach the lower levels of Talon databases without drawing suspicion. I've developed a recon mission-"

Jesse groaned loudly, earning him a reprimanding look from Angela.

"-to get more information on this. Eight of you will be travelling to Boston to talk to Talon operatives, and hopefully to hack into their databases at the source." Hana visibly perked up at the word "hack". Winston swiped once more on his holovid to reveal a decrepit building on the outskirts of a busy city. "According to civilians near the Boston area, a group of people have organized in an abandoned Omnium. This, of course, is a Talon building of operations," he said, stating the fact as if it were obvious.

The plan, according to Winston, was simple. Jesse nearly laughed at the scientist's phrasing. Jesse, Hana, Fareeha, and Genji would don overdramatic- in Jesse's opinion- tactical gear and unused Talon ID numbers and make their way into the "abandoned" omnium. Angela and Reinhardt would be on standby in a building a few blocks away in case the plan went awry, while Lena and Lúcio would wait with the aircraft in a nearby Boston aircraft. Hana gloated to the other new recruit that she would get to actually go inside the omnium; she was quickly shot down when Lúcio mentioned she couldn't bring her mech and they'd all probably get radiation sickness anyways.

Though he seemed disappointed to only be waiting with Lena, Lúcio smiled and wiggled in his chair. "More time for me to improve my healing music and get to know my time-traveling buddy," he said, ramming his shoulder playfully into Lena's. 

Torbjörn, Winston, and Hanzo would be staying behind. By the unchanging expression on the archer's face, Jesse could only guess that he was content with the situation. Assuming, that is, that he was content with anything at all.

The moment Winston had called the meeting to an end, the soldier disappeared out the door. Jesse chased after him, deciding now was the time for some fixing.

"Hey, Hanzo!" 

Jesse jogged up the archer, tipping his hat as he approached. Hanzo met him with a look of obvious distaste, turning back and walking steadily to his destination.

"Hey, you aren't deaf, are ya?" Jesse said once more, tapping Hanzo on the shoulder. The archer spun around, his eyes digging into Jesse in a very unpleasant way. 

"What do you want? Merely the thought of talking to you makes me want to risk leaving this place and get caught by the UN," Hanzo spat, every word enunciated crisply to the point where he literally spit in the cowboy's face. Jesse's eyebrows furrowed, shooting an apologetic look towards Hanzo. 

"I want t' know what's up. You've been avoiding m' lately, and I jus' wanna know why. I jus' wanna help-"

"It is none of your business." The words were clear, final. 

"Seriously, Han, somethin's up-"

"I am not your damsel in distress," Hanzo said, eyes colder than ever. The man that Jesse once had a glance at was now gone for good, locked away. "I do not  _need_ defending. So I suggest you leave, now, before consequences ensue." Hanzo walked away, his normally quiet footsteps slamming against the tile. 

"And do not call me 'Hanzo'," he spat, throwing the last sentence over his shoulder, leaving Jesse alone in the hallway, wondering what the hell just happened. 

* * *

Days before the mission turned into a week, a week soon turning into a month. The Overwatch team found themselves at a stalemate, frustrated at a day that would seemingly never come. While it affected each agent differently, Jesse's life was hell.

The cowboy couldn't help but think that the entire situation was nothing short of childish. Hanzo avoiding him at all costs- nearly disappearing from the watchpoint altogether. He would constantly find himself in an argument with whoever was nearest at the time. This feeling towards the archer- something not quite warm, something unrelenting but _nice-_ was the only thing Jesse could think of. The stubborn gunslinger thought it was nearing obsession, reaching a boiling point, and if he didn't do something soon, everything would go to hell. Well, faster than it already was.

Every passing day made Jesse consider leaving the watchpoint. It reminded him of his final days there- a distant Reyes that had stopped calling him _mijo,_ a worried Angela crying in her office when she thought no one could hear, Genji sobbing behind his faceplate as he screamed at Jesse. Everything leading up to the fall, the familial bond dead and gone, replaced with the façade that Jesse was living in now. And for some reason, for whatever scenario Jesse's mind has conjured, the solution to this problem was Hanzo.

The short time that the cowboy had something even resembling a friendship had brought back something. Whether it be the proud, rare smile Reyes gave him late at night, or the way Angela would squeeze his hands when he cried before painkillers kicked in, he wasn't sure. Seeing a small smile peek behind Hanzo's hand or the way he focused right before he let an arrow fly gave him the same feeling. Not quite warm, but familiar. Safe.

All his hope was pinned on Hanzo. Practically on impulse, no less. Jesse could clearly see the archer's expression if he were to admit this. The gunslinger hoped he never would. So, while Winston made a plan for Boston, Jesse devised one of his own.

Jesse would apologize. Sincerely. It was not something the cowboy was completely sure he could do, but he would try nonetheless. Jesse wasn’t exactly sure that the archer would accept the apology, let him see even an inch behind his cover, yet he would still try. Jesse McCree was many things, and a quitter was not one of them. 

Due to the sheer size (or lack thereof) of the tiny housing unit of the watchpoint, Jesse had picked up on Hanzo’s schedule. At least, when he woke up and went to bed. Everything else was up to speculation, since Hanzo had practically disappeared off the island altogether. Either way, the cowboy decided that he would stand outside the archer’s door on Sunday- the only day when Hanzo seemed to get up at a resonable hour- and refuse to move until the two talked. The night before the designated day Jesse set his alarm, trying desperately to fall asleep and overcome foolish anxiety.

And, just to the gunslinger’s luck, Lena appeared above him, practically ready to blink out of the chronal accelerator strapped around her torso. 

“C’mon, love,” she whispered excitedly, shaking a mop of hair out of her face. Jesse could spot in the dim light a Slipstream pilot’s uniform that Winston had dug out of storage and groaned. Of all things that could’ve woken him up, this was it.

“Lemme guess,” Jesse sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes as Lena bounced on her heels. “Hana hacked the cameras monitorin’ this island so we can fly t’ Boston.”

A smile flashed on Lena’s face as she blinked towards the door, saluting Jesse with her pistol as she stood in the frame. “We’re leaving in five minutes,” she called. “All your gear is in the plane. See y’ in a bit, love!”

With that, Jesse got up, grabbing his prosthetic and an lukewarm cup of coffee as he hiked to the plane.

The ride, to say the least, was long. Lúcio and Hana bantered about topics ranging from the latest DLC of whatever video game the two were playing, to if Lúcio would be able to walk with normal prosthetics instead of skates. Angela’s nose was buried deep in a book, while Lena whistled upbeat songs in the cockpit. Fareeha and Genji had dug up an ancient chess board from a storage closet and were arguing over who knows what. Reinhardt snored heavily in the corner, and Jesse... well, Jesse sulked. 

It was bad enough that the cowboy never got a chance to talk to Hanzo, but now he had to go on a _recon_ mission. The worst kind of mission there was. The only thing that made the plane ride worth it was the fact that they were actually going behind enemy lines.

Yet, as Jesse thought about it, he couldn’t help but get the familiar chill down his spine before an upcoming mission. The masked face of the man made of smoke- the “Reaper”- flashed through his mind. By the looks of it, he had hurt- maybe even killed- hundreds of people. From what Jesse knew, Hanzo was the only one who had met him and come out alive. This man was dangerous.

Jesse couldn’t wait to get his hands on him.

Hours of daydreaming, mild arguments, and about the hundreth iteration of whatever song Lena was whistling later, Overwatch’s plane finally hit the ground. Angela handed out black tactical gear to the four infultrating the base, explaining over and over again to use their comms, otherwise “I will march in their and put you in line”. Jesse followed his orders, putting the small comm in his ear and slipping the black mask over it.

”These things are tight,” Jesse muttered once he had the entire ensemble on. The gear barely concealed Peacekeeper, causing the gunslinger to lean slightly to the side as to drape whatever loose fabric there was over his hip. “‘nd hot. How d’ those Talon people survive in this?”

Angela frowned at Jesse, straightening his mask with her eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not sure they do, Jesse.” The rest of the team upon the plane nodded solemnly, Fareeha even turning around to hide her face, even though it was not visible behind her mask. Jesse walked up to her, his steps heavier than usual on the silent plane.

”Hey,” he whispered as he approached a now-seated Fareeha. “What’s wrong?”

Fareeha sighed as she took off her mask, her hand immediately gravitating towards the gold tassels framing her face.  “It’s just... right after that Reaper showed up, about ten Helix agents disappeared. Just like that,” she said, snapping her fingers at _that_ and looking sadly out the window. “Many of them were my good friends and... I haven’t seen them since.” 

Jesse sat down next to Fareeha, putting a friendly hand on her shoulder. “Y’know, I thought most of y’ were dead. We’re in a dangerous business, and we’re always runnin’ into surprises. It’s okay to feel bad about it.”

Fareeha smiled sadly at Jesse and patted his knee gently. “Yes, but not right before a mission. Right now,” she said, sitting up and putting the mask over her face, “I’m Phara.”

”And that means I’m McCree,” McCree said, standing up and extending a hand to the newly-donned Phara. 

“And I’m Tracer!” Tracer called from the pilot’s seat, soon blinking to the conglomerate of people near the door. 

“D.Va!” Hana said, leaning against the door and smiling. “Although I’m not very D.Va-ish without my mech,” she muttered. 

“Mercy,” Angela said as she adjusted her labcoat, although McCree could detect a small smile spreading across her face. 

“And I am...” Genji said, trailing off at the end, “uh... I don’t have a codename.” The ninja put a hand behind his head, causing McCree to snort. 

“Good one,” he said, patting an inattentive Genji on the back and flinging him forward a few inches. “But we’ve gotta get goin’.”

Genji, Phara, D.Va, and McCree walked towards the large building ahead of them, blending in with the men and women in similar tactical gear all marching towards the omnium. It was exactly how McCree remembered them, even behind a heavy mask obscuring his eyesight. The large stone walls were ready to crumble, vines creeping up the sides. The decrepit building almost looked like the castle in Eichenwald that he had once seen: larger than life and decaying rapidly. Though it looked worse for wear, the cowboy couldn't help but think that the place was almost majestic. The stone walls towering above them, the door that they were approaching blending seamlessly into the barriers surrounding it. This place was beautiful, yet in a way, it did not quite feel real. 

 _"Pay attention to the people in front of you,"_ a crackly voice whispered in McCree's ear, one he recognized as Angela. "Mimic their behavior, it'll help you blend in."

"I've been on enough missions t' know how t' act," McCree whispered back, but he still swept his gaze over the hundreds of other people the making their way towards the doors. Each person's face was obscured by a mask similar to the agent's. Yet, even without being able to see their expressions, McCree felt a pit form in him stomach. Each person- each soldier, if the gunslinger had to guess- walked nearly roboticaly, their limbs snapping in and out of positions as they walked. Each stood as stiff as a board, looking straight ahead towards the looming doors. If there was one thing McCree could take from the entire ordeal, it was that these people were  _not_ human. 

Or, worse yet, they used to be. 

Jesse fought down the nervous spasm shooting down his limbs. One foot after the other, he marched in line, eventually making his way inside the walls of the omnium. From there, the soldiers went their separate, random ways, which gave Jesse a chance to get the lay of the land. 

The entire omnium looked, felt, and reeked of  _death_. Every direction was filled with a dark feeling that Jesse had only experienced once before; a dark feeling that crept behind him, hid in the corners and behind the walls, ready to strike. It was as if smoke had filled the building, weaving its way through the vents and contaminating its inhabitants. The machines looming over them were covered in black, dripping down the sides like oil. Every step McCree took sloshed, yet the cowboy dared not look down. The soft, slimy  _something_ under his feet never ceased to make the cowboy want to vomit.

Through the corner of his eyes he could spot examination tables. The silver somehow gleamed in dim light coming from somewhere above. Rows and rows of them surrounded the perimeter of the omnium, carts of surgical supplies next to each table. The smell of death immediately made more sense. Jesse made a mental note of it, and on closer inspection saw humans and omnics alike being taken apart limb my limb; experimented on, separated, and put back together. Limbs were discarded haphazardly to the side, blood splattering any surface available. The sloshing continued as he walked deeper into the omnium, bloody and filled with death and destruction. 

Jesse repressed a gasp when he realized he was ankle deep in  _organs_. 

 _"Oh my god..."_ a different voice hissed through his comm, distracting McCree from his realization.  _"Oh my god, Mercy, we shouldn't have come here..."_

It was Hana. McCree spun his head and spotted her near a supposed operating table, looking over it as if she were inspecting the craftsmanship of the surgeon. Her hands were placed behind her back, tilting her head and  tapping her tow impatiently. If the gunslinger didn't know better, he might have been intimidated. 

 _"Is something wrong?"_ a familiar accented voice said.  _"Do you need us to come?"_

 _"No, Mercy, it's just... this is horrible."_  Phara this time, and McCree soon spotted her kneeling over a knocked over tray of surgical equipment. _"This is_ so  _horrible, how could someone do this?"  
_

_"I do not know,"_ the voice that McCree recognized belonged to Genji said, his voice sending calm waves over McCree's panicked mind.  _"We needn't stay long. We are only here to collect information. D.Va, once you find a terminal and attempt to hack it, we can leave."_

A small noise, almost like a whimper, signaled D.Va's agreement to the plan. McCree continued to trek on, away from the group and into the back chambers of the omnium. The temperature had dropped a few degrees, and the gunslinger found himself shivering in the tactical gear that had once been sweltering. Though the building was a warehouse- open and expanding in every direction- the tables, the blood, the gore; all of it was gone. Jesse found himself alone, yet he could not shake the feeling of someone- or  _something_ \- breathing down his neck. He spun around, hand on a concealed Peacekeeper, and was met with nothing. 

It was the feeling of the battlefield. The feeling of the calm before the storm, before everything went to shit and he found himself lost or almost dead. McCree had felt this feeling many times before, the man practically lived in it. For years in Blackwatch he had this exact feeling looming over his shoulder, threatening to strike at any moment. Smoke and gunpowder filled the gunslinger's nose, and he felt something brush against his shoulder. 

And then, he was on the ground. 

It was the moment Jesse McCree had lived in all of his life. The moment before he had gotten a bullet lodged between his ribs, the moment before the Swiss headquarters had exploded- his life and his only chance at a new one dying with it. This scene in front of him was happening in slow-motion, clawed fingers grasping at his shirt, a billowing cloak of smoke and decay just within reach. Jesse inched towards the wall, reflecting on everything and nothing as death stared him in the eyes. The gunslinger couldn't help but think of Hanzo, and he almost laughed. In perhaps his last moments, he was thinking of an offhanded infatuation, a dream that he had set his sights on and refused to let go. He couldn't help but think of his apology, his one shot at starting over clean for once in his waste of a miserable life. He would knock on his door, take off his hat and do what he did best: talk. 

_I know I can be a real son of a bitch sometimes. I talk too much, I say whatever comes to mind and annoy ya. So, Shimada, I'm sorry. I really, truly am._

Jesse smiled as he thought, thinking of the surprised reaction he could imagine spreading across Hanzo's face. In fact, he could almost see it. There it was, coming towards him, warm and bright and  _safe_. He thought that it must be death, and Jesse relaxed, welcoming it for once in his life with open arms. 

A deafening sound, a flash of silver, and Jesse's vision went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you noticed, every chapter now has a song lyric in the summary bc i name every chapter after a song. it's just fun and doesn't really reflect on my taste in music bc the only song i've listened to that i named a chapter after is devil in me lol
> 
> also. this is not! canon! so when winston said they didn't know how they could get the info about overwatch he really doesn't bc reaper never broke into watchpoint: gibraltar. unless winston's lying hmmmmMmmmmMMMM


	10. Boston (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _”-I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly i’m past the point of apologizing for updating so slowly bc we all know it takes me months to write one chapter,,, i have so much going on and no impulse control so this is my overall sorry i suck at stuff!! ily tho thanks for stickin around
> 
> yell at me on tumblr or buy me a coffee
> 
> alecjb.tumblr.com  
> ko-fi.com/alecjbi

The air around Hanzo was thick, poisonous. It burned his lungs and seeped into his blood. It felt _wrong._ He could feel every germ from the infected walls and surroundings, as if it were practically dripping evil. He could feel his lungs expand and constrict as the darkness infultrated him, as smoke from the creature standing in front of him slowly choked him, as it put excruciating pressure on his windpipe. 

”Do not touch him.” Hanzo’s voice shook, a hand grasping his bow so tight that it might snap. He stood over Jesse’s limp body, fighting back the stuttered, broken words that would come spilling out of his mouth at merely the thought. Knowing this “Reaper” character would be likely to pick up on a sign of weakness, the archer opted to count in his head. Each number threatened to form on his lips, to break the thin cover he had protecting his true self from this monster.

”Oh, I’d never touch Jesse here,” the Reaper said, his voice sending shivers down Hanzo’s spine. It was the same as the first time they met. His voice was raspy, cold, as if a dead man were speaking. “But I can’t make promises for the rest of my...associates. I know Sombra has just been dying to see her new toy.” He spat the words in Hanzo’s face, mocking him with a tilt of the head and a wave of a claw.

Hanzo grit his teeth. “What do I have to do for you to let him go?”

The Reaper tilted his head to each side, pondering the situation. “Well, you could always accept that offer-“

”No.” Hanzo spoke, and this time around, he meant it. Everyone in Overwatch may hate him, he may be a wanted criminal by the UN and Shimada Clan, but...

This was Jesse. And despite avoiding him due to the confusing emotions bubbling in his head and threatening to spill out, he cared about him. That annoying, impulsive, horrible cowboy had somehow sucked him in with those chocolate eyes and award-winning smiles.

Every word Hanzo Shimada spoke was purposeful when in the face of danger, it was the reason he had learned to repress his emotions and his repeated, stuttered words. That “no”, the renouncing of the Reaper felt powerful. Hanzo could feel a familiar buzzing in his chest, salt on his tongue and the sound of the sea rushing through his ears. 

“Oh, that’s a shame,” the slithering voice said. “I’m afraid that’ll be a problem, _arquero._ Jesse is important in this whole scheme of things,” he spread his hands, gesturing to the rotting around him. “It’s either you come with us, or I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” The Reaper spoke matter-of-factly, which might have just been more disgusting than the building they were in.

The power surging through Hanzo’s blood caused it to boil, overflowing until he was floating in the ocean, salt and water choking him until all he could see was blue. He was soaked in the blue, cold yet comforting, seeping out of him and he pulled back an arrow.

Aimed straight at the Reaper’s heart, if he even had one.

Though he had seen them many times before, whether it be in the midst of battle or visions in a deep sleep, Hanzo could not help but marvel at the sheer beauty of the dragons. They swirled around the omnium, a place so dirty almost an insult to their beauty. He watched as they travelled, scales shimiring in the dim light and power raditating off them.

Hanzo would stay there forever if he could, but...

He practically ran over to Jesse, heart beating out of his chest as he checked for a pulse. Fingers over the gunslinger’s pressure point, Hanzo breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the steady thump-thump of Jesse’s heart beneath his fingertips. The archer considered lifting Jesse, but decided it best to wait for backup. He removed the comm gently from Jesse’s ear, laughing slightly to himself as a “holy shit” and choked laughter came from the other end, and who Hanzo could only assume to be his brother.

”I apologize for the dragons,” he said, balancing on his heels and scanning the unconscious man in front of him for injuries. “I am afraid my instincts took over. They should know to stay away from you, but please, don’t provoke them.”

Genji laughed once more. _“Oh, brother, I cannot wait to hear the whole story.”_

Hanzo sighed and placed his head in his hands. “There is nothing to tell. Either way, that’s not important. What is important is that Jesse McCree is currently unconscious.”

A flurry of worried questions bombarded his eardrums from Dr. Ziegler- no, Mercy, Hanzo had to remind himself. Her accent only became heavier as rushed sentences flowed through her mouth, evidently concerned about the cowboy. 

_“What happened? Is he breathing? Do you feel a pulse? You do know how to take a pulse, r-“_

”Dr. Ziegler,” Hanzo finally said, cutting her off and earning a frustrated squeak. “He has a strong pulse and is breathing normally. I do not see any injuries, I think he may have merely been knocked unconscious.” 

As if on cue, Jesse’s eyes fluttered open. Hanzo muttered a brief goodbye and snapped the comm out of his ear. Jesse’s dark eyes gazed at him, and then behind him...

Hanzo turned back to see two waves of blue staring back at him, the air shimmering blue in their wake. Soft eyes were a sight to see, and the archer nearly laughed as they closed when he put a hand up to stroke their feathers. A purr spread through the room like thunder, shaking tables full of surgical equipment and those who had not encountered the dragons before. With that, they dissipated, the smell of the sea and blue piercing Hanzo’s mind disappearing with it.

”Holy shit.”

The archer turned around with a small smile to see a now-standing Jesse staring with wide eyes at the spot where the dragons once were. His stance was shaky, something quite unusual for the stalwart cowboy.

”They are quite a sight the first time you see them.” Hanzo recognized that these were the first friendly words he had uttered to Jesse in months. His anxieties were temporarily forgotten, pushed to the back of his mind and sure to be back at full force soon.

”You... why? Why are you here?” Jesse asked, now staring at Hanzo and flinging his hands in front of him.

That was a good question. Hanzo wasn’t exactly sure why he was here. It had started out as a feeling, a repition of a thought that slipped into the archer’s mind and attacked him relentlessly. 

_Jesse will be dead._

Usually, Hanzo would push these thoughts aside with a series of sevens and the knowledge that it was completely irrational. (Of course, that never helped, and the thought of Jesse dying convinced Hanzo that he would die since he thought of it. Stupid, completely foolish, yet he couldn’t help it.)  

The thought stayed in Hanzo’s mind until he found himself hiding in the back of the jet to look over Jesse in case he got hurt. One thing led to another, and...

”It’s a long story, I will tell you later.” The statememnt was seemingly innocent, but Jesse seemed to immediately pick up on the meaning.

Hanzo would talk to him again.

The archer was digging himself a hole he wasn’t sure he would be able to climb back out of. 

Somewhere along the line, the two had gotten quite close. Hanzo could nearly feel Jesse’s breath on him, feel those chocolate eyes melting away at him. 

“I was... worried,” he said when Jesse raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I missed you. Now, we have to go-“

Suddenly, there were a pair of lips pressed against his.

Hanzo, out of impulse, pushed Jesse away, his heart pounding out of his chest. Jesse looked about the same, a blush high on his cheekbones, his mouth slightly agape. The archer’s fingers started moving autonomously, tapping to still the whirlwind of emotions and anxious thoughts in his head.

”Shit, Han, I’m so sorry-“

”It’s ‘Shimada’,” Hanzo corrected, facing the other way to avoid having to look at the cowboy. He would’ve talked about it, but they were on a mission, it was simply unprofessional and _foolish-_

Yet, Hanzo even doubted he would have the courage to talk about it. 

“Just get out of here and do not do anything else stupid” was all he could say before he had to repress the urge to scream.

Hanzo felt nothing less than a teenage girl who just had her first kiss. It was simply mortifying, Jesse being able to make him undone and wrap the archer around his finger. Everything locked into place and explained the confusing whirlwind in Hanzo’s mind. 

Hanzo _liked_ Jesse. The thought was almost repulsing, as if his mind could not wrap around the fact. The archer could hear Jesse muttering behind him, whispering words into his comm. Normally he would try to listen in, to glean any cruicial information about the mission, but the whirring and gears grinding of his mind deafened him. 

Somehow his body carried him back through the omnium and out. Hana stood, waving a flash drive of some sort in Hanzo’s face.

”Hanzo!” she practically screeched, eyes glimmering in excitement. “What are you doing here? Those dragons were so _cool,_ I can’t-“

”Not now, Hana,” Hanzo muttered, pushing past her and trying desperately to distance himself from that goddamned cowboy. Hana had metaphorically attached herself to the archer’s hip, ever since a particular day after the mission was announced. 

The teen had been ecstatic for her first mission. The only reason that Hanzo was aware of this was because she had knocked on the archer’s door and begged to know what it was like to go on an Overwatch mission.

Hanzo couldn’t exactly answer the question, but instead told stories of back home, of assassinations and illegal acts he had performer. Hana, in turn, went in detail about the functions of her mech, something Hanzo was actually quite interested.

From there, and odd but nevertheless nice friendship had formed. Hana had take the place of Jesse, something the soldier convinced himself was fine.

Hana frowned and gave Hanzo a pout, but the archer simply pushed past her in search for a certain someone. 

There that someone was, playing with a wraping around his hand that was stained red. Said someone also had a distinct lack of a faceplate.

”What happened to you?” Hanzo asked when he got near. The sudden anxiety in his stomach of _did I do that oh my god_ sprung up, causing a tapping toe that did not go unnoticed by his brother. Genji merely shrugged, scarred eyes sympathetic.

“I got cocky. Thought the dragons would like me.” 

Hanzo nearly snorted. “Genji, you are lucky they did not kill you-“

Genji smirked and wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t be the first time. It’s fine, though, do not worry about it.”

Genji’s arm- which was also missing its metal covering- tried and failed to calm Hanzo’s rapidly beating heart. He frowned at the ground, anxiety from his brother and the mission and whatever the hell just happened making a whirlwind in his head.

 _“We, uh, need to talk,”_ Hanzo muttered finally, looking into the eyes of his brother. _“Something happened.”_

Genji didn’t even seem to notice that his brother had switched languages, his speech changing effortlessly into fluent Japanese. Their team members cast awkward glances at them as they moved back to the aircraft. Especially Jesse, who looked as if he were about to burst into tears.

The sight only made the whirlwind spin faster.

_”Of course, what’s wrong. You’re not hurt, are you?”_

Hanzo shook his head quickly, face heating rapidly.  _“No, no it’s just... well...”_

After a moment, the younger Shimada’s lips started to curl. _“Aw, you’re blushing. It must be good.”_

Hanzo pushed an arm to his side and into Genji. He must have underestimated his strength, or his brother was just playing with it, for Genji stepped a few feet to the side and almost fell. _“Just... okay. You have to promise not to laugh.”_

The smile grew wider. _“Of course.”_

_”Jesse kissed me.”_

The team had to stop in broad daylight due to Genji practically collapsing in laughter. 

 _“What are you going to do?”_ Genji gasped after he had stood up, hiccups practically replacing breaths. _“I mean, you can’t just keep ignoring him now.”_

Hanzo’s hand gravitated to the back of his head. It was almost childish, it showed too much insecurity. No one could see that, Jesse couldn’t see that...

Damn that cowboy.

The soldier sighed and tightened his grip on Storm Bow. _“That’s the plan for now, until I figure out what the hell is going on.”_

Genji’s expression shifted suddenly to look... understanding? That earned a set of seven on its own. 

His younger brother simply looked into his eyes and said something he didn’t think anyone had told him in his thirty-something years of being.

_”It’s okay, brother. I’m there for you.”_

And just for a moment, the sevens stopped. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don’t think i made them do it enough but hanzo was supposed to pick up the hand behind the head thing from him and jess :) this update is hella short i’m just having p bad writer’s block for these kinds of fics ://
> 
> anyways, leave a comment!! i thrive on those things. happy holidays if you celebrate them, and if not, have a kickass week!! ty for reading!!


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